


The Fire in Which we Burn

by echoes_of_another_life



Series: The Fire in Which we Burn [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen, Hooker Jensen, Hotel Sex, Hurt Jensen, Hurt Jensen Ackles, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Rimming, Top Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a high class prostitute, and a good one at that, until he decides he wants out. Still, using Senator Padalecki as means to earn enough money to quit leads to more than he bargained for.</p><div class="center">
  <p> <img/><br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	The Fire in Which we Burn

The Fire in Which we Burn

“I could lose my job for this, Jensen,” Danneel said, her voice hushed, edging toward annoyance, but Jensen could sense her wavering. 

“Please Danni, just a name,” Jensen pushed, and heard the tap of a keyboard echo over the phone line. 

“Just a name?” Danneel huffed. “David, is just a name, Peter is just a name. What you’re asking for is high-rolling clientele…” 

“I know, believe me. I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Jensen said. 

“I don’t know, Jen. I mean if Samantha finds out I breached confidentiality…” 

“I need out, Danneel,” Jensen dropped the saccharine from his voice; he knew from experience that it would probably get him what he wanted, especially with Danneel, but this time he was asking a lot, and somehow he figured, as his best friend, Danneel deserved the truth. “I’m twenty-nine, how much longer do you think these laughter lines are going to bring in the money?” 

“Jensen, twenty-nine is hardly old,” Danneel laughed. “Besides, a lot of our clientele prefer experience, someone who can carry themselves at social functions, and who can look, as well as play the part.” 

“Danneel, I’m a hooker. Granted, I don’t come cheap, but people pay me for sex, and because I look good on the end of their cock, not their arm,” Jensen said. “Please, I just need a name.”

“Okay, but you owe me, and I don’t mean take out and a six pack,” Danneel warned. “I’m talking dinner, at a real restaurant.” 

“Only the best for my favourite girl,” Jensen said around a smile. 

“And wine that costs more than twenty dollars a bottle,” Danneel continued. 

“Okay, now you’re pushing it,” Jensen laughed. He ended the call after a promise from Danneel to get him a name from Samantha’s private book, someone decent, none of the rough stuff. There wasn’t much Jensen wouldn’t or hadn’t done for money, but he’d learned early on that pain was not his thing. Plus, it put a damper on how often he could take a booking when he had to wait a week for the bruises to heal. He pocketed his phone and headed into the exclusive hotel where his latest client was waiting, another in-the-closet actor, still, Jensen couldn’t afford to be choosy, not yet anyway. 

It was three days and two clients later when Danneel finally returned Jensen’s call. He was slightly hung over from a rare night off, but he’d needed it, and had spent the evening with Chris and Steve, enjoying a marathon jam session, and Danneel called early, waking him from a planned day of nothing but sleep her voice even more hushed than the last time, but all trace of annoyance gone from her tone. 

“Senator Padalecki,” Danneel said by way of greeting. 

Jensen whistled softly under his breath. “Go on,” Jensen said as he padded barefoot across his kitchen toward the expensive coffee machine. Some would consider it a luxury, but to Jensen, along with his wardrobe, it was a necessity, and one of the first things he’d purchased after passing the health screening and background checks for Ferris’ modelling and escort agency. 

“He’s thirty-three, and built like a line-backer from what I can tell, married with three kids, so I don’t have to tell you that discretion is paramount,” Danneel said. “Christ Jen, I can’t believe I’m doing this, lecturing you on discretion when…” 

“Danni, I know and I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position, but,” Jensen began. 

“It’s important, I know. If you’re serious, about getting out I mean, then this is your guy. He comes from old money, rich daddy, even richer granddaddy, but it’s not me you have to convince; it’s Samantha and she’s no pushover, Jensen,” Danneel warned. 

“Just give me the where and when and leave the rest to me,” Jensen said, sounding grateful beyond measure.

“He’s coming in Thursday afternoon to go through the profiles with Samantha, that’s as much as I know,” Danneel said.

Jensen spent the next two days client free. He had a haircut, nothing too dramatic, just a trim so that his dark blonde hair looked and felt good. He had no need of highlights the sun doing a good enough job of adding the right amount of tone. He eyed himself in the bathroom mirror, now clean-shaven and looking slightly younger than his twenty-nine years, save for the laughter lines that framed sultry green eyes, but even those were offset by, long, dark and naturally curled eyelashes. A smattering of freckles added a hint of youth, something he was now grateful for, that and the plump, pink lips that framed perfectly even, white teeth. He looked good, and he knew it; his face slightly tanned, not too much, just a healthy sun-kissed brown.

He stepped back into the bedroom and picked up the black, Calvin Klein open-collar shirt and dark grey slacks, the ones tailor-made for fit, snug enough to look natural, but Jensen knew the effect they had on his clients. The way they curved around his ass, and clung to his solid, well-muscled thighs and hinted at the treasures hidden beneath. Dark socks, and matching black shoes, buffed to a natural shine, Jensen left nothing to chance. He looked expensive, but good, smelled even better thanks to a carefully measured hint of amber and musk, casual like he hadn’t spent the past two days planning every last detail of his appearance.

He pocketed his car keys, locked his apartment door and made his way out into the bright, Dallas sunshine. By two o’clock he was in the lobby of the tower block, which among a number of other businesses, housed Ferris’ Modelling Agency. On the surface, it looked and operated like any other legitimate business, and anyone visiting its premises did so under the assurance of the utmost discretion, but underneath, and known to only those who could afford the more exclusive models; it was a veritable hothouse of sex, and decadence. 

Jensen waited, seated discreetly in the far corner, newspaper in hand for Senator Padalecki to enter the building; slowly getting to his feet when he saw him step through the wide, glass doors. Jensen held himself back, and eyed the senator appreciatively, realising immediately that his picture did not do him justice. 

Jensen took a moment to appreciate the senator’s tall frame, taller than Jensen by several inches, and wider at the shoulder. His hair was dark, and slightly longer than Jensen expected, falling over the collar of his white shirt, and grey Armani suit jacket. He carried a briefcase in his left hand, and Jensen could see the solid, gold band of his wedding ring. He hesitated. It was a something he’d considered over the previous two days, the fact that the senator was married, not that Jensen had many hang ups when it came to his client list, but he generally steered clear of husbands, and wives for that matter. Mostly, for self-preservation, a suspicious spouse was not good for business and Jensen knew that being sited in a divorce case could very well ruin his reputation, and probably end his career. However, this time Jensen was aware of its advantage. 

He waited until the senator crossed the foyer, before following at a safe distance toward the elevator, holding an arm out at the last minute to halt the progress of the sliding doors. He stepped forward at the same time as the senator to press the button for the third floor, his arm brushing against the senator's side, deliberate, but causal, and Jensen smiled ruefully when his fingers brushed over Senator Padalecki’s. 

“Third floor?” The senator asked, a slight catch to his breath, and Jensen nodded, and made to stand alongside the senator, close, but not touching. To an onlooker, it appeared casual, just two men sharing an elevator, but to Jensen, it was far from casual. He raised his arm, and checked his watch, his shirt pulling tight with this shoulder and arm to reveal strong, well-defined muscle beneath. He slid a sideways glance and noted the way the senator tracked the movement, his nostrils flaring slightly, and Jensen had to bite back a smile. 

“Late for a meeting?” The senator asked, interest evident in his tone.

“Modelling assignment,” Jensen replied. He turned his head to glance at the senator, and smiled. It wasn’t a lie; Samantha had been trying to get him on-board with the new Hugo Boss campaign for over a month, but Jensen had done the modelling route already and wasn’t too keen. Still, it was a legitimate reason to be in the building, and more importantly to appear in demand. He didn’t want to appear needy, or desperate. He did, however, want to present an aura of desirability. Jensen knew that people were drawn to those who attracted attention. People want what other people desire, and Jensen, had every intention of being desired. 

“You’re a model?” The senator continued, as the elevator moved up past the second floor. 

“Among other things,” Jensen replied, and offered another smile, the tip of his tongue caught temptingly between his teeth, nothing lascivious or too obvious, but enough to hint at there being more to Jensen Ackles than met the eye, sufficient to cause a raised eyebrow from the senator at least. 

Hook baited, Jensen thought as the elevator pinged for the third floor. He nodded a farewell, stepped forward, in front of Senator Padalecki, and out of the door as soon as they slid open. There was a method to his haste, which became evident in the slight sway of his hips as he walked ahead of the senator and toward the reception desk where Danneel was sitting, awaiting her cue. 

“Jensen,” Danneel said overly loud, enough that her voice carried toward the senator, giving him the perfect opportunity to learn Jensen’s name. Jensen gave Danneel a kiss on the cheek as the senator approached and handed Danneel his card. 

“Ah, yes. Miss Ferris is expecting you.” Danneel smiled and directed the senator to first door on the left. 

“Thank you.” The senator smiled. “Jensen,” he said and nodded his head in Jensen’s direction before walking toward Samantha’s private office. 

Danneel pressed the intercom for Samantha’s office, and informed her that her two o’clock meeting was here and then looked back at Jensen and grinned. “He likes you,” Danneel said, excitement evident by the way she clapped her hands together and almost squealed out loud. 

Jensen returned Danneel’s smile, and leaned over the desk to kiss her cheek once more. “Thank you.” Jensen said, he held Danneel’s gaze his smile widening, genuine, all teeth and laughter lines before he too nodded, and headed down the corridor towards the Hugo Boss shoot. 

…

“Senator Padalecki,” Samantha said by way of greeting, offering her hand as she rose and stepped out from behind her desk.

“Please call me Jared,” the senator replied, shook her hand firmly, then took a step back, aware of the height difference, and not wanting to appear intimidating; but Samantha just laughed and pulled out a chair, and offered it to Jared. 

“Samantha,” she said before pressing the intercom. “Coffee?” Samantha asked. 

“Cream, and sweetener,” Jared said, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking the proffered seat. “I think I can save us both a lot of time,” he continued.

“If you’ve changed your mind…” Samantha began, and fought the frown which threatened. Jared had been so enthusiastic on the phone, and she could only wonder what had changed, if indeed, anything had. 

“Not at all,” Jared assured, interrupting Samantha’s train of thought, and immediately putting her mind at ease. “I’d like to know if Jensen is available and if so, I’d like an introduction.”

“Jensen Ackles?” Samantha asked. 

“Tall, dark blonde, green eyes?” Jared said, “Oh, and freckles,” he continued, smiling at the reminder. “I won’t beat around the bush, Samantha. I find him both easy on the eye, and sexually attractive and seeing as the purpose of this arrangement is purely physical…” 

“I’m not sure Jensen’s available,” Samantha said. She knew that Jensen had a small, but regular client list, but the main reason for her hesitation was that Jensen had never worked from her private book. 

“One night, Samantha, if he’s not to my liking then we can reschedule another appointment,” Jared pushed. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Samantha said, not wanting to lose such an influential client, but not wanting to commit either, seeing as how the senator was married, and she knew that Jensen didn’t do baggage. “I’m curious, how do you know of Jensen?” Samantha asked. 

“We met in the elevator,” Jared said, still a little flustered from the encounter. “I believe he has a modelling assignment this afternoon?” 

“Hugo Boss,” Samantha said, putting Jared’s mind to rest that Jensen was who claimed to be. He wasn’t normally a suspicious person, but then he didn’t normally frequent escort agencies either. It seemed today was a day for firsts, which included the sudden desire to fuck a stranger in an elevator. 

…

Jensen finished the Hugo Boss shoot in a foul mood. He’d almost forgotten how mind-numbingly boring it was to be told where to stand and how to look and when to remove his shirt. He had no aversion to taking his clothes off, just not for the camera. At least for a client there were orgasms, well, sometimes, depending on his mood, which wasn’t much better than at the moment. He needed to get out of the business altogether, and soon, but first he needed onto Samantha’s ‘A’ list, and to do that he needed Senator Padalecki. 

He took a long drag on his cigarette, and held it, savouring the burn as the nicotine hit the back of his throat, then exhaled. He’d expected to hear from Samantha by Thursday evening, but so far there’d been nothing. Instead, he was sitting at his computer researching the senator, who it seemed was in his first term in the Texas State Senate for the Dallas district. He was thirty three, and married with children, or rather stepchildren. Three nephews from all accounts, belonging to his older brother who had died in a car accident two years ago, just months after Jared was elected to the senate. His death leaving Jared and the boys as the sole heirs to Padalecki fortune. 

Jared had married soon after his brother’s death, and adopted the children. Jensen had to wonder how many votes that had earned him. Since then Jared had been pushing for stricter automotive and highway safety bills. Jensen was about to read the details of the crash, and Jared’s subsequent marriage when his phone rang. 

“Jensen?” Samantha said by way of greeting.

“Hey, Samantha, I suppose you’re calling about this afternoon’s shoot?” Jensen replied. 

“Actually no. I have a proposition for you, a client, or an introduction to a client,” Samantha said, choosing her words carefully. 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty busy,” Jensen edged. 

“Cut the crap boy, I know you’re good for it,” Samantha cut in. “Either you want it or you don’t; I'm not begging. There’s a whole portfolio of ass at my disposal, and you know it.”

“I want it,” Jensen said, and took another drag of his cigarette. He wasn’t entirely sure about that afternoon. The signs had all been good, but Samantha was right; she had a world of pretty at her fingertips. He’d only hoped his looks were enough to get a foot in the door.

“That’s my boy,” Samantha said approvingly and went on to give Jensen all the details, and Jensen made all the right noises, feigned surprise at first. Yes, he remembered his meeting in the elevator, but he hadn’t given it much thought, his mind on the Hugo Boss shoot. Yes, he’d spoken briefly with the senator, and yes; he was definitely surprised that the senator had asked for him by name. Yes, he was available, and no, of course he wouldn’t let Samantha down. 

Jensen scribbled down the hotel, and room number for the Saturday, which was perfect because he had a catch up date with Danneel the following day, and you did not cancel a date with Danneel and still keep hold of your balls; especially when he owed her so much. He called it a night as soon as he ended the conversation with Samantha, and if he dreamed of broad, muscular shoulders, and slanted hazel eyes, it didn’t have to mean anything more than the fact that he’d spent too much time at the computer, staring at Jared Padalecki’s face. 

…

Jensen debated his outfit for the Saturday night, slacks or something more comfortable. In the end, he opted for the outfit Danneel had picked out. A pair of dark jeans that could have been tailor-made for fit, a moss-green Henley that flattered his eyes, and a pair of well-worn, but expensive boots all chosen for comfort, but even he had to admit he looked good. He added two leather wristbands, and a splash of his favourite cologne, the woody vetiver and cedar a perfect complement to green Henley, again, nothing left to chance. He pocketed his car keys, opting to drive, if he needed to leave for any reason, then it made sense to have transport. The last thing he wanted if things went bad was to be standing around waiting for a cab, something he’d learned early in his career. One final glance in the mirror, a deep, calming breath and he was ready.

He made his way downstairs, popped Chris’ latest CD into the car stereo and made his way onto the Central Expressway and toward the Fairmont hotel. Luckily, traffic was light and he made good time, arriving a little early, but better that than late. He swallowed down his nerves as he made his way up to the fifth floor, and took another calming breath as he rapped his knuckles against the elegant, wooden door of Jared’s room. 

Jared smiled as he opened the door, minus the suit jacket, he looked even wider, and Jensen took a moment to appreciate the other man’s appearance, Jared’s smile widening as he noted the way Jensen eyed him appreciatively. He was wearing a crisp, white shirt, open from the collar. His sleeves rolled up to his elbow to reveal strong, tanned forearms covered with a smattering of dark hair. Black slacks, again, Armani, Jensen noted, and he had to bite back a smile of his own at the oval-shaped ‘Texas’ belt buckle. 

“Drink?” Jared said by way of greeting, but not before Jensen saw the way Jared’s eyes raked down Jensen’s tall frame, lingering on his mouth. Something Jensen was used to, especially from his male clients, and Jensen knew why. More than one of his female clients told him he had sinful lips, made for kissing, but more than that Jensen knew how others imagined those same, plump, pink lips wrapped around the end of their cock.

“Please,” Jensen said, and let his tongue snake forward, wetting his bottom lip, the move deliberate, and he watched the way Jared’s eyes darkened. He took the chair Jared indicated, sitting down; legs spread slightly, nothing too lewd, just enough to appear enticing. 

“So tell me about yourself,” Jared said as he poured Jensen a glass of Kentucky Bourbon, and made his way back to where Jensen was sitting, handing over the glass before taking a seat opposite him. 

Jensen spent the next half an hour being grilled on his past, family circumstances, likes and dislikes. Something he definitely wasn’t used to, normally a client wanted him naked and fast, but Jared wanted to know where Jensen was born, raised, and even schooled, everything but his inside leg measurement.

“Tell me, as a physical therapy major, why this particular career choice?” Jared asked, the one question they all asked sooner or later, Jared just seemed to want to know straight out of the gate. 

“Honestly?” Jensen said.

“Yes,” Jared responded. 

“There’s no sob story,” Jensen replied. “There's no hard up, down on my luck tale of woe. The truth is, I like sex, and I’m good at what I do.” He added, smiling as he held Jared’s gaze with confidence born of ease rather than practice. The truth was he was damn good at what he did, and he knew it.

“Prove it,” Jared replied, and if it was planned to unease Jensen, then it failed as Jensen put his glass on the small table, got to his feet, and crossed the short distance that separated him from Jared. He remained standing for a second, let his gaze wander down Jared’s broad chest and straight to his groin before leaning forward and placing his hands on the arms of Jared’s chair, boxing him in as he leaned into Jared’s space.

“With pleasure.” Jensen smiled, his voice, teasing as he placed his hands on Jared’s strong thighs, lowered himself to his knees, and made a space for himself between Jared’s spread legs. He let his hands wander up Jared’s thighs, thumb skirting the inseam of his pants, almost to the crease, then stopped, and traced his fingers over Jared’s belt buckle. His fingers ghosting over his home state, before he eased it free; his gaze fixed firmly on Jared’s as he pulled down his zipper. Slow at first, and then all the way as Jared shifted his hips, sliding lower down in his seat to give Jensen better access. Jensen could see the outline of Jared’s cock through his shorts, and licked his lips. He wasn’t lying when he’d said he liked sex, he did, and he had to bite back a groan at the sheer size of Jared. 

He looked back at Jared, and smiled, wet his lips, and released a moan when Jared raised his hand to Jensen’s face, thumb skirting over his bottom lip before sliding upward, past his cheek to curve around the back of his head. Jared held Jensen’s gaze, swallowed and then brought Jensen’s head down until his face was level with Jared’s groin. There was nothing forceful about it, Jared’s fingers ghosting through the short hairs at the back of Jensen’s head, massaging lightly. 

“Now, let’s see what you’ve got,” Jared moaned, and Jensen heard the chair creek, as Jared gripped its arms, knuckles white as he held himself still and let Jensen take over, handed control to Jensen. 

If Jensen was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, he eased back on his haunches took hold of Jared’s pants and tugged them down exposing more and more of tanned, muscular thigh and nodded his approval before pushing back onto his knees to stroke his way up the inside of Jared’s thighs. His thumb skirting the dark line beneath Jared’s sac, then lifting Jared’s cock to expose his balls. Leaning in, he found the line that ran between them and stroked it with his tongue, licked a path teasingly at first, slow, ever so slow, up, over Jared’s balls to the base of his cock, paused and then continued all the way to the head. Jensen watched Jared’s reaction, noticed the sweat beading on Jared’s forehead, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as Jensen repeated the motion, twice and a third time before finally, finally taking Jared’s balls into his mouth, and rolling them around on his tongue. The saliva pooling in Jensen’s mouth making each motion slick and easy, as he released Jared’s balls and licked up his shaft once more, pausing at the head and placing a small kiss against the slit. 

“Take it slow,” Jared said, taking hold of his shaft and fisting slowly. First down, then up as he pressed the head against Jensen’s mouth, rubbing it back and forth against Jensen’s bottom lip, and smearing it with pre come. 

Jensen inhaled the clean, slightly bitter scent, licked his lips and groaned at the first, real taste of Jared’s cock before opening his mouth, and taking him in. He sucked at the head gently, tongue laving at Jared’s slit before sliding his mouth all the way down to the base; breathing Jared in as Jared tightened his grip on Jensen’s head, and held him still. Jensen hummed approvingly and sucked harder, dragging his mouth back up Jared’s length, then down in perfect rhythm taking Jared in deeper, and feeling him shudder. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Jared praised, no longer passive as he tightened his grip on Jensen’s head, thrusting upward, and fucking his way into Jensen’s mouth. Once, twice, groaning when Jensen caught his gaze, and watched him through dark, sooty lashes as a smile curved his mouth and his fingers circled Jared’s length, squeezing hard and pulling back, tongue dragging up the entire length of Jared’s cock.

Jensen massaged his thumb where ridge met shaft. His breath ghosted hot over the head, tongue teasing Jared’s slit, lapping at the pre come that leaked steadily into his mouth. Jensen moaned his approval, lost in the taste of Jared, the feel of Jared’s fingers massaging his scalp, curving around the back of his head to keep him close as he bucked up into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen relaxed his jaw, opened his throat and took Jared in. 

“Fuck!” Jared cursed, and thrust into Jensen’s mouth, hard, and fast, pulled back only to thrust back in deeper. 

Jensen loved this. He loved the power it gave him, knowing the other person’s pleasure relied solely on him. He pulled back, slowed the pace a little and heard Jared whimper, fucking whimper as Jensen fisted upward at the same time as he sucked down, his lips meeting his fist to form a perfect rhythm. Once and again stopping only to brush the head of Jared’s cock against his lips. He locked eyes with Jared and moaned as he lapped at the pre come that coated his lips.

“Taste so good,” Jensen said, and he meant it, every word. There was nothing Jensen liked better than sucking cock, and he made a show of proving it. Releasing his hold on Jared’s length to take him in, right to the base and used his free hand to cup Jared’s balls, as he sucked harder, rolled Jared's balls around in his palm and opened his throat once more as Jared picked up Jensen’s rhythm, thrusting up as Jensen sucked him all the way down. 

Jared groaned, lost in the feel of Jensen’s talented mouth. He didn’t know how much Jensen charged but whatever it was it wasn’t enough. Not only was he as good as he boasted, better than, but the blissful look on his face, the way he moaned his pleasure as he took Jared in was almost enough to have Jared coming. He hadn’t planned this, had every intention of getting to know Jensen but one look at Jensen’s bee-stung lips, hearing him talk of his enjoyment. His love of sex and Jared was lost, desperate to experience it first hand, and now… 

“Fuck,” Jared groaned as his cock twitched against the back of Jensen’s throat, he wanted to come, wanted to spill inside Jensen’s mouth, but more than that, he wanted Jensen. He wanted him naked and spread open beneath him, above him, around him, anyway he could get him. “Wait,” Jared hissed out, almost there, one more stroke, and it would be too late. “Just wait.” 

Jensen stilled, released Jared’s cock and licked his lips as he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Jared. He watched Jared take a deep shuddering breath, hold it and then release it, his eyes closed, his face a picture of concentration. 

“Stand up,” Jared said, and groaned when Jensen did as he was asked, rising to his feet and biting his bottom lip hard when his cock chafed against the confines of his pants, the dark stains evidence of Jensen’s own arousal. 

“I want to see you,” Jared said, and glanced down toward Jensen’s groin. “All of you.”

Jensen’s hands shook as he made to undo his pants, and he took a minute to steady himself. He was hard, and his jaw ached, throat slightly sore from the sheer size of Jared’s cock. He was surrounded by Jared’s scent, his taste, and so turned on that it took him a moment to gain back his coordination. He sucked in a breath and unfastened his jeans, first the button followed by the zipper, and slowly, carefully eased the heavy material away from his sensitive cock. Jensen groaned as he freed himself and felt the cool air of the room brush against his come-soaked skin. He was so close, and he hadn’t even been touched. Just the taste of Jared on his tongue, the scent that lingered on his hands and skin was almost enough to have him coming right there.

“Take them off,” Jared urged. His own voice, ragged, his breath tripping over his lips, in rapid bursts of puffed air. 

Jensen didn’t need any further encouragement, just the promise of more, of hands on his skin; Jared's hands was enough to have him reaching for the hem of his Henley and tugging it over his head in one, practised move. He shoved down his jeans, cursing when they caught and bunched over his still-fastened boots. 

“Just leave them,” Jared groaned, finally standing now that he could trust his legs to bear his weight. He toed off his shoes, shoved his pants, and shorts the rest of the way down, stepping out of them and around the chair, his cock hard, jutting out from the thatch of coarse dark hair. He removed his shirt, and took back the space that separated him from Jensen in three easy steps, and knelt to untie Jensen’s boot laces; his face levelled with Jensen’s cock, planting a slight, almost chaste kiss against his hip; hearing Jensen’s slight intake of breath as Jared untied one and then the other boot. He grabbed for the first boot, and felt Jensen reach out; his palms braced against Jared’s shoulder for balance as he lifted one foot then the other free. About to stand, Jared paused when he felt Jensen’s fingers ghost through his hair. Jared paused, allowed him the slight movement before finally easing himself back to tower over Jensen’s smaller frame. 

“On the bed,” Jared urged. He watched as Jensen made his way across the room, and caught his breath at the sight of Jensen’s nakedness. He marvelled at Jensen's strong, muscular shoulders, the tanned expanse of his back, and smattering of freckles, teased out by the sun, the curve and swell of Jensen’s perfectly formed ass. Jared felt his cock jerk, with renewed interest. He was calmer, more in control, and he wanted to take his time, feel Jensen come apart beneath him. He took a breath and followed in Jensen’s wake, pausing to step behind him, and felt his cock brush up against Jensen’s ass, his chest against Jensen’s back as he pressed a kiss into Jensen’s shoulder and whispered, “Face down.”

Jensen swallowed, torn between wanting to do as Jared asked and staying put, feeling the solid weight of Jared at his back, Jared’s cock pushing tight with his ass. He took a minute to savour the feel of Jared’s breath at the back of his neck. His hand planted firmly against Jensen’s hip, then bent forward and reached across the bed, bending over and smiling to himself when he heard Jared’s breath catch in his throat. Jensen grabbed for a pillow, his ass pushing tighter with Jared’s cock for an instant before Jensen positioned the pillow beneath him and spread out on the bed, legs open, ass raised. 

Such a tempting sight that Jared almost reconsidered taking it slow, and instead, grabbed for what was on offer, he wanted to push in with his cock and feel Jensen open up for him. He wanted to take, and have, and yes, keep damn it. He lowered himself onto the bed and knelt between Jensen’s spread legs; his arms braced either side of Jensen’s shoulders so that his cock brushed up against Jensen’s lower back smearing pre come against Jensen’s skin, and whispered, “Nice and slow, remember?” 

Positions reversed it was time for Jensen to make good on his word, and prove just how much he enjoyed sex. Jared started out slow, and kissed the back of Jensen’s neck, nuzzled his way lower, to kiss down Jensen’s spine, wet, open-mouthed kisses, pausing at the curve of Jensen’s ass to bite, hard, Jared’s tongue snaking forward to soothe the sting. 

Jensen groaned, and pushed his ass higher, closer to Jared’s mouth and heard Jared laugh, low and throaty. “You like that?” Jared asked, and inched lower, his thumbs stroking between the shadowy cleft of Jensen’s ass to pull his cheeks apart, and Jensen groaned louder. 

“God yes,” Jensen moaned, and spread his legs wider. 

Jared teased a thumb across Jensen’s hole, light, and barely there as he spread Jensen’s cheeks wider, watching the way Jensen writhed beneath him. He could smell Jensen’s musk, clean and earthy and so tempting that Jared had to, needed to taste. He lowered his head, breath hot against Jensen’s hole and licked a stripe up his crack, all the way to the small of his back, as Jensen bucked up, pushing against Jared’s mouth. He paused to savour the taste and stroked his tongue down, pushing in with the tip, short, hard stabs that had Jensen moaning, pulling up until he was on all fours, legs spread wide as Jared pressed his tongue flat and licked up, and down, but stopping short of Jensen’s sac. 

“Fucking tease,” Jensen said, desperate and so damn needy, pushing back against Jared, urging him on, as Jared got to his knees and lined his cock up against Jensen’s hole, stopping short of pushing in. 

Jared didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but right there, watching Jensen’s hole twitch, and open slightly as he bumped against it was almost his undoing. He wanted to wait, to touch and taste every inch of Jensen, to lick into him and hear the sounds Jensen made, but he was so hot, and hard, and he needed to feel that sweet muscle open and tighten around his cock. 

“Under the pillow,” Jared hissed, and watched as Jensen pulled out the lube and condom, shoving it roughly toward Jared. 

Jared took a moment to look his fill, saw the way Jensen’s arms braced tight to bear his weight, knees planted firmly against the mattress and his ass so temptingly close. Just when he thought he couldn’t look any hotter, Jensen glanced back, over his shoulder and stared at Jared, green eyes blown wide with lust, and want. 

“Come on,” Jensen urged, and watched as Jared ripped open the condom, took a deep breath and rolled it over his cock. He snapped open the lube, squeezed it into the palm of his hand, and then fisted his cock, lathering the lube up and over the head. 

“Ready,” Jared said, and pressed in without needing an answer, just the head of his cock, and felt Jensen’s hole stretch and take him in. He thrust up once, all the way and stilled, closed his eyes and breathed, deep, steady, drawn-out puffs of air as Jensen’s muscles clenched around him, rhythmic spasms that massaged his cock, nearly sending Jared over the edge, and Jared knew; this could never be a one-time thing. He wanted Jensen, wanted more of him, and he was damn sure he was going to get him. It didn't matter how many pretty faces Samantha offered him. 

“Move,” Jensen moaned, and was rewarded when Jared snapped his hips forward, hard and fast, withdrew all the way to the head and thrust back in. 

“So tight,” Jared groaned, surprised. Not that he’d fucked many prostitutes, Jensen being the first, but he hadn’t expected Jensen to be as tight, which he realised was kind of an insult to Jensen, and then wondered why it mattered so much, but somehow it did. He shook off the thought, and withdrew again, pushed back in, harder, reached around for Jensen’s cock and found Jensen’s hand already there, wrapped around his own shaft, fisting himself in time with Jared’s hips, and Jared’s breath hitched approvingly.

“Yeah, Jensen, come on, come for me,” Jared urged. He withdrew, all the way, and thrust back in deep; his balls pressed tight to Jensen’s ass, and circled his hips, felt Jensen’s muscles tighten around his cock and groaned. He gripped Jensen’s hips, hard enough that there’d be bruises the next day, and realised he wanted to see them. See the marks, and know that he’d put them there. Jared swallowed, fought down the sudden urge to possess and reminded himself who, and what Jensen was. 

“Christ, I'm close,” Jensen moaned; a genuine, deep-throated moan. None of the usual put on porn star noises he sometimes had to employ to get a client off so as he could go home, and shower, but desire, thick, and potent. 

“Say my name,” Jared said, realising for the first time that Jensen had never used his name, not once in all the time he had been there. 

It was against his better judgement, something Jensen never did. Sure, baby, and darlin’ had their place, and kept his clients at a distance, but never, ever did Jensen call out their name. 

“Say my name,” Jared said again, gripping Jensen’s hips harder as he thrust up, and withdrew, dragging over Jensen’s sweet spot, and then stilling. 

“Jesus, do that again,” Jensen said, pushing back, needing more. 

“Say it!” 

“Please,” Jensen begged. “Jared, please,” the name escaping of its own accord as Jared repeated the motion; harder this time, once, and again, as Jensen fisted himself in time with Jared’s rhythm, crying out as he shot thick, ropey strands of come over his hand and the bed sheet, and Jared followed him down. 

It took a while for Jared to realise he hadn’t moved, still riding the aftershocks as he sprawled on top of Jensen, forcing him face down into the mattress. He took hold of his cock, and pulled out, slow and easy, removed the condom carefully, tied it off and placed it on the nightstand for later disposal and felt Jensen stir beside him. 

“So how’s this work?” Jared asked, pulling the sheet up to his waist as Jensen climbed out of the bed, and padded naked to where he’d left his clothes. 

“I leave, and you do whatever it is you do,” Jensen said, his back to Jared and missing the way Jared frowned in his direction. 

“Do I pay you now, or? I mean it’s not like I make a habit of hiring a prostitute,” Jared said, adopting Jensen’s easy, nonchalant manner, and finding himself annoyed that Jensen was already back in his jeans and pulling on his Henley. 

“On the house,” Jensen said, as he bent to lace up first one boot, and then the other, before tucking them under the hem of his jeans. “Let Samantha know if I fit your requirements, and she’ll draw up a contract, if not, well this is good-bye." Jensen pulled down his Henley and ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. It sounded harsh, but Jensen knew the choice had to Jared’s that Jared had to be the one to do all the running if this was to work. He didn’t want any comeback later, nothing to even hint that he’d set Jared up, besides it was always good to give them pleasure, but leave them wanting more. Create a little distance, a little mystery with any luck Jared would come back with no encouragement needed, or at least that was the plan. 

“Senator.” Jensen nodded his head in Jared’s direction and made his way to the door, it was only when he was finally on the other side of it that he breathed. 

He was so screwed. 

…

“So, tell me what was he like?” Danneel asked as soon as Jensen opened his apartment door the next day to find Danneel standing there, pizza box in one hand, and bottle of wine in the other. Jensen opened the door wider and smiled as she waltzed in amid a cloud of Chanel, pepperoni and cheese. 

“Hot,” Jensen said, and made a grab for a slice of pizza before Danneel even had time to place the box down on the coffee table. 

“And?” Danneel said, and raised her eyebrows suggestively in Jensen’s direction.

“Definitely hot!” Jensen said around a mouthful of pizza. 

“You didn’t?” Danneel asked as Jensen wandered into the kitchen in search of a beer, plates, and a corkscrew. 

“Oh, I did,” Jensen said, glancing over his shoulder and grinning in Danneel’s direction.

“Jensen you have to quit giving it away for free,” Danneel laughed and held her hand out for the glass of wine Jensen was pouring. 

They spent the afternoon watching a collection of Ben Stiller movies, and leaving the subject of work alone. Danneel curled up to Jensen’s side, her head on his shoulder, both relaxed, content in each other’s company. 

…

Jensen checked his phone the next morning and noticed a missed call from Samantha. It was a little after ten when he finally stumbled out of the shower, mornings not being his favourite part of the day. He made a note to call her back, but first coffee, sure it was important, but nothing was as urgent as the need for his first shot of caffeine. Not even Senator Padalecki, Jensen thought as he took a sip of coffee and groaned with pleasure as the bitter liquid danced over his tongue. 

…

Danneel was on the phone when Jensen approached the reception desk that same afternoon, she smiled, and mouthed, “She’s expecting you.” and waved Jensen through to Samantha’s office. If Jensen was surprised to see Senator Padalecki, he covered it well, almost as well as the sudden flare of desire that sparked when Jared nodded in his direction.

“Jensen, come on in,” Samantha said, genuine warmth colouring her tone. 

Jensen took a chair alongside Jared, and tried not to squirm in his seat when Jared turned his head and smiled, secretive, knowing, and Jensen felt the dull ache of stirred memory as he shifted slightly, and turned his attention to Samantha.

“Jared would like to talk contracts,” Samantha said, getting straight to the point. “I assume that’s agreeable to you?” she continued looking directly at Jensen. 

Jensen nodded, and heard Jared release his breath, almost as if he’d been unsure of the answer. 

“Excellent,” Samantha said. 

“Just so as we’re clear, I want an exclusive contract,” Jared said, his tone adamant. “I’m willing to make it worth your while,” he added when he saw that Jensen was about to argue. 

Jensen took a deep breath, and looked to Samantha, unsure. 

“The agency can handle the finer details, Jensen. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement that would appease your more regular clients,” Samantha cut in.

Jensen took a moment to consider. It had taken him a long time to cultivate a small, but regular clientele, weeding out the weird and yes, undesirable. Losing that now could prove costly, something he hadn’t considered. He’d expected to add the senator to his bookings, a hefty bonus on top of his regular income. He thought of how much he was about to lose, and not just financially. He had a reputation for being reliable, was he willing to throw that reputation away? Still, this could be his meal ticket out, if he played his cards right. 

“Jensen?” Samantha asked. 

“What are we talking here?” Jensen asked. He knew what he stood to lose, he needed to know what, if anything he was about to gain. Besides, regular, mind-blowing sex. 

“I want two meetings a week,” Jared said, his tone confident and assured, as he looked from Jensen to Samantha. “The arrangement flexible, and times to be decided on a week to week basis.” 

Samantha nodded.

“I have a busy schedule, so I expect you to be available at short notice,” Jared added. 

“How short a notice?” Jensen asked. “I do have a life.” He bristled.

“I don’t mean to interfere with your social calendar, as long as its friends only,” Jared said, a wry twist to his mouth. “But I do expect a modicum of priority, as I said, I am willing to make it worth your while.” 

“Jensen?” Samantha said.

Jensen picked up the warning tone in Samantha’s voice. They’d already had this conversation on the phone earlier. Samantha reminding him what an influential man the senator was, and how lucky Jensen was to be selected, especially as she’d planned a more experienced choice for him. Someone used to the needs, and wants of the more high-end customer. To turn Jared down would not only be bad for Jensen financially, it would severely piss off Samantha, and while she was both approachable and attentive to her escorts and models, it didn’t do well to get on the wrong side of her good nature.

Jensen wanted to ask how willing, but knew not to push it, no doubt the price already agreed ahead of Jensen’s arrival. Instead, Jensen nodded in Samantha’s direction and held his hand out toward the senator. It was a business arrangement after all. 

“Excellent,” Samantha said, the warmth back in her voice as she smiled at Jensen. “I’ll have the contracts drawn up by the end of the day.” 

Jensen spent the night celebrating with Chris and Steve at the ‘Black Porch Tavern’, Grapevine’s own slice of Nashville as Chris liked to call it, home of the coldest beer in town. Both Chris, and Steve played regular gigs at the Black Porch, and Jensen liked the atmosphere, low key, and a far cry from the booming bass of some of the other, more popular places in town. 

There weren’t any secrets between the three of them, Chris and Jensen having been friends since high school. It was Chris who introduced Jensen to Steve the two having met through their love of music, and since then they’d been as thick as thieves. Now after more than ten years of being around one another, each knew all there was to know about the other. They’d gotten shit-faced drunk together, carried each other home a time or three, and shared secrets they probably regretted the following day when they’d faced their bleary eyed, unshaven and almost sober reflection in the mirror. They’d shared jamming sessions that went well into the next morning and woken up on each other’s sofas enough times that Jensen figured confidentiality be damned. 

“So exclusive, huh?” Chris asked as the live band announced a fifteen-minute break and the volume of the club lowered to the hum of general conversation. 

Jensen picked up his beer, his third of the night so far, and nodded. 

“How’s that even work?” Steve asked. “I mean what about regular hook-ups?”

“Friends only,” Jensen said, and took a long pull from the bottle in his hand. He shrugged his shoulders at Chris’ questioning stare, and placed the bottle back on the table, his fingers circling its neck and making tracks in the condensation collecting against the glass. 

“You’re shittin’ me?” Chris exclaimed. 

Jensen shook his head at Chris’ look of horror.

“The guy better be a dynamo in the sack Jenny boy,” Chris said and laughed at the grin on Jensen’s face. “You’re kidding. Already?”

“Try it before you buy it, right?” Jensen said, grin widening to encompass his entire face. 

“That’s my boy,” Chris laughed. 

The rest of the night turned to talk of music, and Steve’s latest idea for an album, and whether or not to tour further afield; something he and Chris had been considering for a while. Jensen was pleasantly buzzed when they called it a night, both from the alcohol, and the company. He caught a cab on Main Street, his phone vibrating in his pocket as he said his good-byes, Jensen ignored it. Whoever it was could wait. He had a date with his bed, and at least eight hours of interrupted sleep. 

…

Jared frowned as the call went unanswered for the second time, granted neither party had signed the contract yet, and as such Jensen was under no obligation to take Jared’s calls, but still, it bothered him more than he liked. Jared had been assured by Samantha that Jensen’s clients would be contacted by the end of the day, and that Jensen would no longer be receiving bookings through the agency, but that didn’t mean he was alone. Jared wasn’t possessive by any means, but there were some things a man didn’t share, his choice of sexual partner for one. 

He pocketed his phone and considered leaving the fundraiser early, as it was he’d spent the majority of it out on the balcony, instead of inside among the rich and powerful, but his father had insisted on Jared’s presence and if there was one thing, Jared had learned at an early age; it was that it didn’t do well to refuse Gerald Padalecki.

He debated trying one more time, but figured it was getting late. He wasn’t even sure why he was calling, but until the contract was signed there was always the possibility that Jensen would change his mind, and Jared was leaving for Washington soon after, and wouldn’t be back for several days. No, Jared wasn’t possessive by any means; he just hated uncertainty. 

“There you are, boy,” Gerald said, annoyance colouring his tone. “Don’t you think you’ve left Ava alone enough for one evening?” 

Jared doubted it. If there was one thing, Ava loved, it was a party, and she would be more than happy to be playing hostess, regardless of Jared’s presence or not, preferably not. Jared wanted to say as much, but instead, he schooled his features into a mask of affability, turned toward his father and smiled despite the reprimand. He was used to being a disappointment despite all his endeavours to please his father. Marrying Ava for one thing. Jeff had been the golden boy, but Jeff was gone, and Jared knew to his father; Jared was nothing but a poor substitute, and as for his wife, well; Jared would always be second best. He nodded toward his father, and went in search of a drink, and his wife, in that order. 

…

Jensen fumbled for the alarm clock, hitting the snooze button as he turned over and debated going back to sleep when his phone vibrated and danced noisily in a circle against the wooden nightstand. 

“This is your early-morning wake-up call," Danneel said, far too chirpy for Jensen’s liking. 

“I’m awake,” Jensen said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Good, you know how Samantha hates tardiness,” Danneel said.

Jensen climbed out of the bed, adjusted his shorts to accommodate his morning erection, made his way to the kitchen and switched on the coffee machine. “Remind me again why you have my number,” Jensen said affectionately. 

“Because you love me,” Danneel said. “Seriously Jensen, don’t be late, oh, and wear the black Ermenegildo Zegna.” 

Jensen shook his head as the line went dead, and noticed he had two missed calls from an unknown number, both from the previous night. He frowned, hoping it wasn’t an angry client calling to rip him a new one, and sighed. He left the coffee to percolate and made his way to the bathroom, stepped out of his shorts, took a piss, was about to climb into the shower when he caught sight of the bruises in the mirror. There was no mistaking what they were, or how they were made. Jensen turned on the shower and stepped inside, desire flaring as he traced the purple marks, his cock twitching at the memory of Jared’s large hands holding him down while he fucked his way into Jensen’s ass. He pushed against a bruise, and groaned at the dull ache that surfaced; he shook his head sending droplets of water in every direction and groaned louder, just thinking about Jared was enough to make him hard. 

Jensen reached for the soap as the water ran in rivulets down his back, and danced along his skin, hot and welcoming. He groaned at the sensation, clenched his buttocks as the water teased down the naked curve of his ass, and tried to ignore the increasing ache in his groin. He closed his eyes; the muscles of his neck stretched tight as he arched his back and pressed his shoulders into the tiled wall behind him. He was not going to jack off over a client; he wasn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

Jensen finished his shower, frustrated, but awake. He dressed in the black suit Danneel had suggested, his white shirt open at the collar, and took a moment to savour his morning coffee, before making his way across town to Ferris’ Modelling agency. 

“He’s already here,” Danneel said, as Jensen exited the elevator and made his way over to the reception desk. 

Jensen felt a hum of excitement and tempered down his enthusiasm; it had only been five days since meeting Jared, and as much as Jensen was sure Jared had taken the bait, there were still contracts to sign. 

“She wants you to go on in,” Danneel said, after announcing to Samantha that Jensen had arrived. 

“Thank you,” Jensen said as he kissed Danneel on the cheek, he wanted to say more, that he couldn’t have done it without her help, but he was conscious of their surroundings. Instead, he squeezed her hand and made his way to Samantha’s office, knocking once before opening the door and stepping inside. 

Jared was standing at the window of Samantha’s office. He turned the instant Jensen stepped through the door, and for a second Jensen almost forgot to breathe. He was dressed in a black William Fioravanti suit that Jensen would bet cost more than his car, and probably the entire contents of his apartment. The dark merino wool clung to Jared’s shoulders, almost like a second skin, the high lapel making him seem even taller, more powerful, and for a second, Jensen was tempted to turn tail and run. Then he remembered his leather wallet, filled only with credit cards, small bills, and faded photos that was suddenly creating a bulge in the rear pocket of his pants, and swallowed down the fear that clawed at his gut. 

“Jensen, take a seat,” Samantha offered as Jared stepped away from the window and made his way to Samantha’s desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he took the chair beside Jensen. 

“I trust the contract meets with your approval?” Samantha said, directing her question to Jared, who nodded. 

“I have to be in Washington for the next few days, but I expect all obligations to begin Monday of next week," Jared added.

“Excellent,” Samantha said, and then turned her attention to Jensen. 

Jensen was familiar with the standard contract, the rights and responsibilities of both the escort and the agency as well as the usual confidentiality clause, aware that he was being hired for his time and companionship only. He nodded his head, took the pen Samantha offered, and signed his name on the dotted line. He’d done it, hooked himself a high roller. He could scarcely believe it. He wanted to whoop out loud, but settled for a smile, and a nod of approval from Samantha. 

Jared was the first to the leave the meeting, thanking Samantha for her time, and with a quick nod in Jensen’s direction. Jensen watched him cross the room with an almost panther-like grace, and felt desire stir.

“He’s quite something isn’t he?” Samantha said, sounding almost as impressed as Jensen felt. “I don’t have to tell you how lucky you are, Jensen. Just, don’t let me down,” she continued. 

Jensen nodded. “I won’t.”

“Good, now scoot,” Samantha said. She had another appointment at ten o’clock, and Judge Chambers did not like to be kept waiting. 

Danneel was on the phone when Jensen left, she waved her good-bye as Jensen approached, “Call me,” she mouthed and returned her attention to the caller. Jensen smiled, waved back and made his way across the hall. If he was surprised to see Jared standing by the elevator, he didn’t show it, instead, he pressed the button to take him down to the foyer. 

“Senator,” Jensen said, stepping inside the elevator ahead of Jared, and hitting the button for the ground floor. 

“Jared,” Jared said, following Jensen inside, and stepping into Jensen’s space, forcing Jensen to edge backward, his back to the wall. 

“What?” Jensen said, as Jared stepped closer, the extra inches in height even more noticeable. 

“My name, it’s Jared.” Jared said, lifting his hand to drag his thumb across Jensen’s bottom lip.

Jensen tried hard not to moan as Jared lowered his gaze to Jensen’s mouth and licked his lips and leaned in; close and tight, and Jensen wondered what it would be like to kiss, Jared. He swayed forward as Jared leaned in, a breath away, closer still, and then he tilted his head, dragged his mouth along the column of Jensen’s throat instead, scraped his teeth across his jaw, up toward his ear and breathed, “Next time I call; you pick up.” 

Jensen leaned forward against empty air as the elevator doors opened, and Jared turned and left without a backward glance.

…

Jensen spent the following four days wandering around his apartment bored, unused to so much time to himself, but now that he was no longer seeing any other clients; he found himself at a loss. At least, that was his excuse for constantly checking his phone for a text or a missed call. Wednesday night he took Danneel to the ‘House of Blues’ to listen to Chris and Steve play, and Thursday was spent doing laundry. By Friday, he was so bored he called Samantha and booked a shoot for a fashion magazine. There was nothing in his contract to say he couldn’t model, and he had to do something otherwise he was going to go stir crazy. 

He slept late on Saturday, didn’t surface until eleven, which was good seeing as he had to be at Ferris’ agency for three for the shoot, and needed to look fresh, and rested. He took a long hot shower, more frustrated than ever, but still refusing to see to his own needs. Once shaved and moisturised, he dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans, his most comfortable and plain black T-shirt, and made his way across town. 

Jensen had modelled for Marcel before, and knew he preferred to move his models himself, getting the pose exactly as he wanted it in the least time possible. Jensen had no problem with being touched, and directed, and in no time at all the electricity was crackling. It must have been the days spent doing nothing because Jensen found himself actually excited as Marcel’s assistant Rachel, applied some light make-up to his face, nothing too heavy just a light dusting of foundation and hint of gloss on his lips. 

“Remember your posture, Justin,” Marcel called out to Justin Hartley, another of Samantha’s models.

Jensen smiled for Marcel, turned and put his hands in his pockets, and glanced over his shoulder, the action serving to pull the material of the dark slacks he was wearing tight with his ass, and adding a hint of provocation. 

“That’s it Jensen,” Marcel called out and began snapping photos in rapid-fire succession as Jensen stared into the camera lens, and smiled. Marcel paused and said something to Rachel, who came over, turned Jensen to face the camera once more, and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, easing the material apart and stepping back out of the frame as Marcel moved Justin closer to Jensen’s side. 

“Now, put your hand on his shoulder and lean in as if your whispering something to him,” Marcel instructed Justin, who did just that. He leaned into Jensen’s side, near enough that Jensen could feel Justin’s breath ghost across his face. It was hot, the overhead lights adding extra heat and Jensen was so close that he could see the fine sheen of sweat that beaded on Justin’s skin. 

Jensen leaned in, closer almost nose to nose as if they were sharing something secretive, known only to them and heard the camera whir and flash. 

“Yes, that’s it, perfect,” Marcel shouted. 

And that’s when Jensen saw him, off to the side, just watching, arms folded his gaze fixed on Jensen. 

Jared. 

The rest of the session passed in a blur of camera flashes and instructions being called out by Marcel. Rachel coming over occasionally to fix his or Justin’s hair, and to wipe the sweat from their foreheads, but all Jensen could focus on was Jared. The way he stared at Jensen, frowning when Justin got too close, the frown giving way to a full-blown glower when Marcel suggested they took off their shirts. 

Jensen had been under plenty of spotlights, but never, not once had he felt so naked.

It was a little after six when Marcel called it a day, thanking both Jensen and Justin for their time and professionalism. Jensen had stepped over to the corner where he had left his bag, fully intending to change back into his own clothes when Jared stormed over, and took him by the arm, turning Jensen around to face Jared.

“Since when did a fashion shoot require taking off the clothes?” Jared asked.

“Firstly, it’s Saturday,” Jensen said, ignoring Jared’s raised eyebrow, and the way Justin eyed them both speculatively. 

“Meaning what?” Jared asked, genuinely confused. 

“Meaning the contract doesn’t begin until Monday,” Jensen said, and glanced down at his arm, Jared’s grip tightening. 

“It damn well begins when I say it does,” Jared said, stepping into Jensen’s space and forcing him back against the wall. 

Jensen was already at a disadvantage, dressed only in his slacks and shoes, but now he was forced to look up as Jared towered over him. He wanted to be angry, but one look at Jared’s face, the way Jared’s pupils widened at Jensen’s nearness, his nostrils flaring slightly, and the way he glanced down, toward Jensen’s mouth. He still hadn’t kissed Jared, had no idea what his lips felt like. Did he kiss softly, lips lightly brushing, tongue tentative, seeking entrance? Or did he take, all possessive and demanding, like he was being now? 

 

Jensen swayed forward, and heard Justin cough. 

“You, out!” Jared said, turning his head for an instant to glare at Justin before looking back to Jensen, and swallowing, hard. “How much?” Jared asked. 

“What?” Jensen replied, sure that Jared wasn’t asking to fuck him, right now, where anyone could simply walk in. 

“How much do you earn from these, whatever they are?” Jared asked, throwing an arm out to encompass the room and camera set up. 

“Oh, no. You are not telling me I can’t work at all,” Jensen said, and made to pull away from Jared. “I have to do something,”

“You can,” Jared said, and dragged Jensen back, slamming him up against the wall. “You can do me.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss at the corner of Jensen’s mouth, another against his cheek, before returning to Jensen’s mouth, soft, fleeting and a complete contrast to the tight grip he had on Jensen’s arm. The kiss was slow, unhurried, neither moving, barely breathing as Jared explored, touched, tasted what Jensen had to offer. Jared teasing his tongue across the fullness of Jensen’s bottom lip, grazing his mouth across Jensen’s cheek before inching back, more demanding, pushing in with his tongue and groaning as Jensen pushed back with his own. 

Jared didn’t know why it mattered if Jensen took off his shirt, actually he did. It was Justin’s hands on Jensen, not just his shoulder, but his bare skin, touching Jensen, leaning in, so close to what Jared considered to be his. 

Jared had had all afternoon to watch Jensen, at first unnoticed. He’d seen him unguarded, natural. The way he moved, effortlessly, the way he looked at the camera, seductive, but natural, and Jared had never wanted to possess something so much in his life, as he did Jensen, which was a completely new and alien feeling. Everything Jared owned he had inherited from his family, his name, his money, his kids, and even, his wife, and damn if they didn’t ever let him forget it. 

Nothing Jared had or owned was his, not really. He was a stand-in for a ghost, save for his career something he carved out for himself, and now; he had Jensen, and he was going to make damn sure he was the number one priority in Jensen’s life.

Even if he had to pay for the privilege.

He took a step back, aware of their surroundings and lack of privacy, and rested his forehead against Jensen’s, took a moment to catch his breath. “Until Monday,” Jared said. He stroked his thumb across Jensen’s bottom lip, held it there, a mere moment and then turned and walked away, leaving Jensen wondering what the hell had just happened. 

…

“Uncle Jay!” Jared closed the door, dropped his bags, and hunkered down to his knees as Noah hurtled himself down the stairs and into Jared’s arms. 

“Hey sport,” Jared said, as he hugged his youngest nephew close to his chest. It had only been four days, but he had missed this. 

“You’re late,” Ava said by way of greeting.

Jared picked up Noah, held him close to his chest as he walked over to his wife and stooped to kiss her, his lips ghosting across her cheek as she turned her head at the last second. “I stopped by the office after getting in,” Jared said, the lie falling easily from his lips as he turned his attention back to his nephew.

“You feel taller, did you grow while I was away,” Jared asked. 

“Really?” Noah said, his voice a mixture of hope and disbelief. 

“At least an inch,” Jared said, knowing how much eight-year-old Noah hated being the smallest, but Jared knew, if he was anything like his brothers he’d be shooting up any day now. He took a moment to hold Noah close, before handing him over to his mother. 

“Dinner will be in an hour,” Ava said, turning her back on Jared and the conversation, taking Noah with her as she turned and walked away. 

“Welcome home,” Jared sighed as he collected his bags, and headed for the stairs. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, and there were some reports he needed to go over, privately. He took the stairs two at a time, and made his way to his bedroom, dropped his bags at the foot of the bed, and took out his phone, his thumb scrolling through the list of names until he came to Jensen’s. He hovered over the call button, and sighed. 

Two more days. 

…

Jared took himself off to his study as soon as dinner was over. He’d promised the boys a movie night, but first he needed to go over the documents he’d brought back from Washington. He paced his study, and waited for the call to be picked up. He scanned the ST-3 Accident Report form again, skimming over the scaled diagrams, and photographs, blanching at the close up evidence. The car was totalled; he knew that, but knowing and seeing… Jared halted his pacing when the line was picked up. 

“Collins.”

“It’s me, I received the reports,” Jared said, getting straight to the point. 

“Senator, I wish I had better news.”

“You’re sure?” Jared asked, needing to be certain. As a hired gun, Misha came highly recommended, and had worked in and around a number of war zones. It was even rumoured he’d spent time with the Russian government, but for the past year, he’d been on Jared’s payroll. 

“Nothing can be certain, but I believe an improvised explosive device was most likely the cause.” 

“How?” Jared asked. 

“Ammonium nitrate,” Misha said. “Whoever it was probably used a tilt, anything from a small plastic bottle to a medical tablet tube. Placed in the fuel tank, the liquid slowly corrodes the plastic casing, and once the nitrate comes into contact with the fuel, well… boom!” 

Jared flinched as Misha described the explosion. 

“Of course, it can’t be proven,” Misha said. “The tilt completely erodes, and the resulting fire burns up any nitrate residue, which is why it’s a perfect choice.”

Jared scrubbed his hand over his face, and up into his hair, shoving back his fringe as he began to pace once more. 

“Which begs the question, senator,” Misha said. “Who would want your brother dead?”

Jared had been asking himself that same question for two long years, and still didn’t have an answer.

…

It was the last Sunday of the month, the time Jensen always spent at his parent’s house, usually around a backyard barbeque, a time for all the family to get together. Jensen was standing by the patio doors talking with Josh about football and who would take the place of Tony Romo in the preseason opener, Romo having only recently come off back surgery in the December. Josh was complaining that Romo was being far too hesitant when throwing the deep ball anyway when Jensen’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Jensen nodded his agreement, and pulled his phone from his pocket to see that he had a text. Again, it was an unknown number, the message short.

 _Wednesday, 7.30pm the Hyatt Regency, Room 603._

…

Jensen handed his car over to the valet parking with a wry smile. It was his one luxury in life; besides his coffee machine, a Lexus IS, which he was grateful for, even if it was three-years old, and had taken a hefty instalment plan to pay for. It was his, and it didn’t look out of place when pulling up at fancy hotels. He crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators, stepped inside and pressed the button for the sixth floor. 

Again, Jensen was early and after knocking on the door several times and receiving no answer he tried the handle and finding it unlocked he let himself in. The room was empty, save for Jared’s suit jacket, which was draped over a chair and an open bottle of Kentucky Bourbon. 

“You’re early,” Jared said. 

Jensen turned toward the bathroom, expecting to see Jared, dressed as usual in suit pants and a shirt. Instead, he was leaning against the bathroom door, in jeans and a dark T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, hands in his pockets, and barefooted. Jensen swallowed, if he thought, Jared in a power suit was hot, then this version was pure sex, and for a moment Jensen was lost for words, unsure as to how to proceed. He was used to Jared the senator, not Jared the ordinary man. 

“Where do you want me?” Jensen asked, in an attempt to put Jared back into the role of paying customer. 

“Here,” Jared said, and crooked his finger at Jensen. 

Jensen took a deep breath and stepped forward, stopping an arms-length away from Jared, who remained where he was. 

“Closer,” Jared urged, taking his hands out of his pockets and straightening up to his full height.

Jensen took a step closer, and stopped, unsure. 

Jared raised an eyebrow, and smiled as he reached out, hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jensen’s jeans and pulled him the rest of the way in and whispered, “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Jensen echoed, and tried to smooth out the frown as he looked up at Jared, and made an attempt to match Jared’s smile. It was off centre and crooked and just when he thought he couldn’t maintain it any longer; Jared lowered his head and kissed him. 

The kiss was slow, unhurried, just a meeting of mouths as Jared coaxed Jensen closer, deepened the kiss, his arms circling Jensen’s waist and working a path down, past narrow hips to cup his ass. One hand nestled against the small of Jensen’s back, keeping him close, while the other slid upward to curve around the back of Jensen’s head as Jared’s tongue dipped, and tasted, and teased. Jared removing Jensen’s clothes, slowly, first his shirt as, he coaxed Jensen closer the bed, unfastening his pants, and removing his own as Jensen stepped out of the rest of his clothes and eased himself down onto the bed. 

This time when Jared pushed into Jensen, it was slow, careful, Jared nipping at Jensen’s exposed skin, anywhere, and everywhere he could reach. Sinking down into the hair-roughened strength of muscled thighs that wrapped around him, and held him close, as Jensen cried out, arched his back and came, long and hard.

… 

Jensen waited until Jared’s breathing evened out, threw the sheet aside, and swung both legs over the side of the bed, grabbed for his jeans, and shoved one bare foot into each leg, roughly. He pushed himself to his feet, and slipped on his shoes as he reached for his shirt. 

“You’re leaving?” Jared said, and made to grab for his pants, shoving both feet in at once, fastening the bottom two buttons to stop the denim riding too low on his hips as he run his fingers through his hair and looked across at Jensen. 

Jensen heard the anger in Jared’s voice, as he swept his gaze over the broad expanse of Jared’s shoulders, the bruise where his throat met his shoulder, his bare chest, all the way down to the line of hair that disappeared into well-worn denim. 

“Yeah, well I charge by the hour,” Jensen said, turning around and making for the door. 

Jared strode across the room, almost dwarfing Jensen with his larger frame as he grabbed for Jensen’s shirt and spun him back around. “I damn well know that,” Jared said. “I’m the one footing the bill.”

“Yeah, and you’ll do well to remember that?” Jensen almost shouted. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jared asked, anger dying away to be replaced by a confused look. 

“What the fuck was that?” Jensen spat, flinging a hand out to point at the bed.

“You’d rather I treat you like a whore?” Jared asked, the anger resurfacing. 

“I am a whore!” Jensen snapped. 

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” Jared pushed Jensen up against the door, pressed his body flush with Jensen’s, so close that only a breath of air kept them apart, and kissed him, hard, on the mouth, fingers wrapped tight around Jensen’s throat. He loosened his grip, trailed his hand past Jensen’s collarbone, down his chest to where his nipple pushed against the soft material of his shirt, pinched and twisted, rolled it around between his fingers until Jensen moaned. 

“Is it?” Jared spat, as he trailed his hand lower, down to the bulge in Jensen’s jeans and squeezed his cock through the material as he trailed rough kisses down the side of Jensen’s neck. He bit and suckled at his pulse point, purpling the skin as blood rushed up to meet the harsh demands of Jared’s mouth. 

Jensen clutched at Jared’s arms, just to stop himself swaying on his feet; he tried hard not to respond, but his body betrayed him, his cock hardening beneath Jared’s rough touch. Low throaty moans escaping his parted lips despite his best efforts to remain still, he bucked up, once, and again. He turned his head and clung to Jared’s mouth as he thrust his hips forward in time with Jared’s hand and moaned. 

“Turn around,” Jared said, voice urgent, demanding as he spun Jensen around and pressed him flush with the door, his fingers grabbing, pulling at Jensen’s jeans in an effort to uncover skin. One hand struggling with the buttons on his own jeans, freeing his cock, the other massaging Jensen’s ass cheeks roughly, delving between as Jensen pushed back, and called out Jared’s name between curses. 

“Fuck yeah, come on, do it,” Jensen groaned, needy and desperate. 

Each and every word Jensen uttered spurring Jared on, causing his cock to twitch, his breath to quicken as he shoved his jeans down his thighs, circled his hips against Jensen’s ass until his hole was slick with pre come, and pushed in. 

…

Jensen closed his eyes as he collapsed against the door, heard Jared’s laboured breathing, sharp ragged breaths puffed out against Jensen’s cheek, the thought that Jared was just as affected bringing little comfort. He felt used, dirty, and every inch the whore. He realised he was stroking Jared’s hip as the last of his orgasm abated, and hastily snatched back his hand. He turned his head, slowly and watched as Jared fought for control, noted the way Jared’s pulse jumped in his throat as Jensen lifted his gaze to kiss-swollen lips, and fought the urge to kiss Jared, softly this time, to try and recapture the mood of earlier, but it was too late. 

“Look at me,” Jared urged, turning Jensen around to face him.

Jensen lifted his gaze to Jared; his hair all mussed; cheeks flushed and eyes darkening with something Jensen couldn’t put a name to. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared said, regret evident in his tone as Jensen struggled to pull up his jeans, cursing when his zipper caught, his fingers fumbling with the button. 

“Don’t be,” Jensen said, and reached for the door handle, turned it, walked out into the hallway and whispered, “It’s what you pay me for.”

…

It was dark out when Jensen collected his car, and drove the short distant home. His first thought was to call Danneel, but it was late, and what could he say anyway. He’d fucked up? Let Jared, what?

Make love to him?

Is that what they’d done, before it all turned so horribly wrong?

Jensen opened the fridge and grabbed for a bottle of beer, used his ring to pry off the cap, and took a long pull from the bottle neck as he made his way to the bathroom, removing his soiled jeans, and turning on the shower. He finished the beer in two swallows, worked himself free of the rest of his clothes and climbed under the hot spray. 

Christ, this was not going how he’d planned. In all his years in the business, he’d never let anyone that close. It had always been the same, felt the same, like he was being paid to provide a service. Yet tonight, it felt… just for one moment he’d forgotten and let Jared in.

Jensen turned up the heat on the shower until it was almost scalding, and scrubbed at his skin, the noise of the spray drowning out his phone as it vibrated in his jeans pocket.

…

Jared tried Jensen’s number for a second time, but still it went unanswered. He debated waiting and then calling again, but what could he say?

That he was sorry?

He poured himself another bourbon, his third and drank it down in one easy swallow, relishing the burn as it hit the back of his throat. 

Three times he’d been alone with Jensen, intimate, the second time he’d all but accosted him and tonight… 

Jared picked up his phone and dialled Misha’s number, foot tapping impatiently as he waited for Misha to pick up.

“I need an address,” Jared said as soon as the call connected. 

“Who is this?” 

“Sorry,” Jared said, voice slightly less gruff. “It’s Jared Padalecki.”

“Of course senator, just give me a name and I’ll text you the details,” Misha said, fingers working the keyboard as Jared reeled off Jensen’s name. 

Jared poured himself another drink while he was waiting, much more, and he’d need to take a cab. He pressed the message icon on his phone as it buzzed and saw an address for an apartment complex on Maple Avenue. He grabbed for his coat, uncaring of the time, and left.

…

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Jared said as Jensen opened the door to his apartment half an hour later, feeling slightly underdressed in loose running bottoms, and a plain white T-shirt. He wondered how Jared had gotten his address, then realised; he was a senator, and a rich one at that. It wouldn’t be that hard for someone of Jared’s standing to obtain an address, any address, let alone Jensen’s. 

“I don’t allow clients here,” Jensen said, and made to close the door.

“Please, I need to apologise,” Jared said, holding his hand out to prevent Jensen from closing the door.

Jensen sighed, and turned around, leaving the door open for Jared to enter. He kept his back to the door as he walked over to the window and looked out on to Maple Avenue. He flinched when he felt Jared step up behind him, Jared’s arms circling Jensen’s waist, loose, enough that Jensen could easily step out of the embrace if he wanted to. Jared’s arms tightening their hold when Jensen remained still, unmoving. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared whispered, voice low, tinged with remorse. 

“You said,” Jensen sighed. 

Jared pulled Jensen back against his chest, kissed the top of his head, his cheek, his jaw, his hands seeking out Jensen’s and interlacing their fingers. “Can we try again?” Jared said, the words breathed into the soft skin beneath Jensen’s ear. 

Jensen nodded, not even sure what it was they were trying for. 

…

Jared left a little after midnight, tired but reassured. He turned right on Stemmons Freeway, followed, discreetly by the black sedan, past the Dallas World Trade Center, along North Walton Walker Boulevard as the black sedan hung back, three cars behind. It turned right as Jared turned right, left, and then right again, kept a steady, even pace, unnoticed, all the way to Preston Hollow. 

…

Jensen felt a little better when Samantha handed him a check on the Friday, less like a boyfriend and more like he was being paid to provide a service. He looked down at the monetary amount, realising he could probably pay his rent and utilities for at least six months, and looked to Samantha. 

“Welcome to the big bucks, kid,” Samantha said, and smiled.

Jensen spent that night staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, the silver blister pack with the morning-after pill the clinic had given him clutched in his fist. He was twenty-nine years old, and a hooker, what life could he offer a kid? 

But then, he was twenty-nine years old and a hooker, how many chances were there going to be to have a kid? 

Something of his own.

Jared already had three kids, and if he could take on someone else’s then surely he’d paid for his own? 

Jensen glanced down, and pressed a hand against his flat stomach.

Could he be that person? 

That conniving?

Jared hadn’t even asked, if Jensen was safe. Just taken, all anger and thrusting hips and… so what if he’d apologised. 

Jensen closed his eyes, gripped the pills tighter until the sharp edges of the foil dug into the tender skin of his palm. He opened his hand, silver now edged red, popped the pills from their casing and swallowed them dry. 

…

The photographs were crisp, clear. Jensen leaving the Hyatt Regency, dishevelled followed a little later by Jared, looking upset, but determined. Picture after picture, Jared in his car outside Jensen’s apartment, entering the building, head down until it came to the darker, slightly more blurry photographs, but there was no mistaking Jared, who was standing behind Jensen at the window, Jensen’s back to Jared’s chest, Jensen turning, slowly, into Jared’s arms. 

“Who is he?” 

Pellegrino answered by tossing the copy of Esquire across the desk, a picture of Jensen wearing a dark Hugo Boss suit on the inside cover.

“You know what to do.”

Pellegrino nodded. 

…

“There’s no doubt Dez Bryant will play,” Jensen said as he wandered back into his kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge.

“Yeah, well how effective can he be seeing as how he’s missed so much practice because of those damn back spasms,” Jared said, twisting around on Jensen’s small sofa to grab the beer Jensen offered. 

“Trash talk,” Jensen said, “I’m telling you, Bryant will be ready.” 

If Jensen expected it to be all about sex, he was wrong. Sure, there were times when they spent hours, naked. Jensen sprawled on the bed, face down on the pillow. Jared on top of him, fingers digging into muscle, stroking, teasing as Jensen bucked up and cried out Jared’s name. 

Times when he felt he earned the checks Samantha handed over every week.

But there were quieter times, times like now when Jensen would breathe out, relaxed and barefoot, his head resting on the back of the sofa. Times when Jared would just lean across and stroke Jensen’s thigh, or rest his hand on Jensen’s knee, and keep it there. 

Times when Jensen wondered why Jared needed to pay for this, domesticity when he had a wife, and a family at home. 

Jared shifted his knee as Jensen scooted closer, twisted around, his arm along the back of the sofa to shoulder Jensen’s weight. 

“Tired?” Jared asked, as Jensen nodded.

“Want me to leave?” Jared continued. 

Jensen had been tired lately, even grouchier in the morning. Twice he’d snapped at Danneel when she’d called to make sure he was awake. Jensen put it down to the lingering after-effects of the stomach flu. 

Jared smiled, stroked Jensen’s hair as Jensen shifted, throwing one arm across Jared’s chest, all but asleep in Jared’s lap. Jared dragged the comforter from the back of the sofa, and draped it over Jensen, just five more minutes, and he’d leave. 

… 

Jensen was leaving an Armani photo-shoot, turning several heads as he made his way across the lobby and out into the mid-afternoon sun, wearing white slacks and a striped, long-sleeved T-shirt, the sleeves rucked up to his elbows, when he received the text. 

_Thinking of you_

He frowned; it wasn’t unusual for trusted clients to send him texts from time to time, but usually there was something sexual about them, an element of needing something from him. Whether that was to satisfy some desire, alleviate their boredom, stroke their ego, or simply a hunger for forbidden fruit. 

People wanted, and Jensen knew that the trick to making them want, was to play to their weaknesses, inflame their desires, flatter, comfort their insecurities, and he did. He enveloped them in fantasies, sweet words, and promises, turned them around, and around until they couldn’t see straight, and would sell their soul for just one night. 

But with Jared…

For once in his life Jensen was unsure because Jared didn’t seem to have any weaknesses and yet, he still wanted, Jensen. 

Jensen shoved his phone back into his pocket and stepped out onto Oak Lawn Avenue when the car clipped the sidewalk, taking Jensen with it. He saw the car coming, at speed, but thought; it couldn’t hit him; it wouldn’t – it was impossible. He saw the car edging closer, saw the face of the driver, blonde, dark sunglasses, and hands gripping the steering wheel, and thought. I was thinking of you too, now, at this moment in time. I was thinking of you. He heard the screech of tyres. Someone shout, and even then; he hoped… prayed… 

Bang.

…

The noise was infuriating, incessant. He needed to get a new alarm clock or at least switch it off. He would; he'd switch it off just as soon as he remembered how. 

“Jensen?” 

“Jensen, honey, it's Mom.” 

Not now, Jensen thought. His mom knew how he hated being woken early, just five more minutes. 

“Can you squeeze my hand?”

Sleep, Jensen thought. What’s it take to get a decent sleep?

“Jensen?”

Dammit, would somebody switch of… 

Jensen opened his eyes slowly, his throat sore, mouth dry, and his limbs feeling heavier than usual; someone dimmed the lights. He blinked, his eyes scratchy. He hoped it wasn’t the flu he had a photo-shoot today, or was that yesterday?

The alarm continued to beep. 

He vaguely remembered the photographer. He was wearing a white lab coat. Wait, that wasn’t right. There was music, someone rearranging his hair, his clothes, the flash of the camera, and then someone shouting, being thrown through the air… 

“Jensen, can you squeeze my hand?” 

Jensen blinked, squeezed. 

“Welcome back.”

“Where?" Jensen said, his voice sounded like it did after an all-night jam session with Chris, croaky, and hoarse from one too many cigarettes. 

“You’re in the hospital. Baylor Medical Center.” 

Jensen’s world slowly came back into focus as he did what the doctor instructed and followed the light. It hurt his eyes, too bright, but it seemed important that he look left, then right, and then up and down as the light moved before his eyes. 

“What happened?” Jensen asked. 

“You were in an accident, took a nasty bang to the head; you gave us quite a scare, young man,” Doctor Cortese added, and smiled. At least, Jensen thought it was a smile; everything still seemed a little fuzzy around the edges. 

“We can go over the details later, when you’ve had some rest.” The doctor put her hand on Jensen’s shoulder, and let it rest there a second before turning and stepping out into the hall, where Jensen’s parents were waiting. 

“The swelling is going down, and his vitals are good,” Doctor Cortese told Jensen’s father, before turning toward Jensen’s mother. “You can go in, but ten minutes only; I want him to get some rest.” 

“Should we tell him?” Donna asked the doctor, she put her hand on her husband’s arm as he made to enter Jensen’s hospital room, holding him back. 

“I see no reason to trouble him just yet,” Doctor Cortese said. “I’ll have my colleague visit when he’s more awake.” She smiled at Jensen’s mother, turned and made her way down the corridor, toward Obstetrics. 

Jensen reassured his mother he was fine, really, there was no need to cry. A couple of days and he’d be back on his feet. He was grateful when his father took her by the shoulder and guided her out of the room, and Jensen could close his eyes once more. 

…

Jensen was dreaming, or at least he thought he was. It was dark out and he was alone. There were voices, hushed, slightly familiar Jensen thought as they edged closer. 

“Sir, visiting was over several hours ago,” someone whispered. A nurse? 

“Please, I just need a minute,” the second voice said, he sounded concerned, tired, but impenitent, as if he had every right to be there.

Then there were hands stroking his hair, his cheek, lips grazing his forehead. “I miss you,” the second voice said. 

Jared. 

Jensen blinked, awake, but it was morning, and he was alone. The beeping had finally stopped now that the ECG had been removed, but he was still hooked up to an IV, and was, by the feel of it, catheterised. Jensen lifted the sheet, and grimaced at the sight of the thin, flexible tubing. 

“We’ll be removing that this morning,” Dr Cortese said as she entered the room.

“Glad to hear it,” Jensen said, his voice stronger, and more like his own. 

“How are you feeling,” Dr Cortese asked as she flashed a light across Jensen’s line of sight. 

“Good, better,” Jensen said, going along with the doctor’s instructions as she asked him to follow her finger, look up, down, touch his nose, smiling as Jensen completed each task successfully. 

“When can I get out of here?” Jensen asked.

“Soon,” Doctor Cortese said. “We just need to make sure all remains well with the baby.”

“The what?” Jensen said. It was one thing to test his vision, and other sensory skills, but there had to be something wrong with his hearing because surely he’d heard wrong.

The baby?

“You didn’t know?” Doctor Cortese said, as she walked over to the bed, and took a seat next to Jensen. 

Jensen shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“You blood work shows high levels of human chorionic gonadotropin,” Doctor Cortese said. “Have you been feeling tired lately?” 

“Well, yes, but then I’ve had the stomach flu.” Jensen flinched. How could he be so stupid? The stomach flu, just a day after the morning after pill. Christ, what a mess. 

Doctor Cortese watched Jensen’s colour drain, his fingers fisting in the bed sheet, his eyes closed as a look of total despair passed over his face. “I gather this was unplanned?” she said. 

Jensen nodded. Pregnant.

“We need to perform an ultrasound now that you’re awake,” Doctor Cortese told Jensen, her voice quiet, encouraging. 

Jensen nodded. He was pregnant. “When?” Jensen said, finally finding his words.

“My colleague will be along shortly, and we’ll take it from there.” Doctor Cortese rose from her chair, and patted Jensen’s hand. “I’ll give you a few minutes.” 

A few minutes. He was expected to come to terms with the fact that he was pregnant in a few minutes. 

Oh, God. He was pregnant. How was he going to work? Who’d want to pay to fuck a pregnant hooker? Unless he lowered his standards, then there were always those who would find his rounded stomach a turn on. But could he go back to that after Jared? Exploit his kid. It was bad enough its parent was a prostitute without using the kid before it was even born, and in such a way. 

…

The ultrasound confirmed that Jensen was seven weeks pregnant. He hadn’t looked as the doctor had squeezed the cold gel onto his stomach, or when she pressed down against what felt like his bladder. Or when she started using words like viable, and gestational age. But now he held the small white envelop in his hand and debated whether to take out the black-and-white pictures he knew were inside. 

“Don’t you want to see?” Danneel asked, curiosity warring with concern.

“No, “Jensen said, finally, putting the envelope down on the nightstand. “He can’t know.” 

“Jensen he’s going to find out,” Danneel said. “Better from you, than…”

“You’re the only other person who knows, besides my parents, are you going to tell him?” Jensen asked, throwing back the sheet and climbing from the bed, grateful that the catheter had finally been removed, and he could take a piss by himself. 

“What? Of course not,” Danneel said, hurt that Jensen would think she’d do such a thing.

“I just need some time to figure this out,” Jensen said. “Has he been here, visited at all?” 

Danneel shook her head. 

“I could have sworn…” Jensen shrugged. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” he said and made his way to the bathroom. 

…

Jensen was discharged from the hospital the next day, after assuring his parents, he was fine, and could manage, and that he had Danneel and Steve, and not to mention, Chris, whose mood ranged from rage that Jared had gotten Jensen pregnant -- seemingly, all on his own, with no help from Jensen if Chris’ rants were anything to go by -- to elation that he was going to be an uncle. 

“Imagine, me, an uncle,” Chris said, awe in his voice, and a stupid smile on his face as he stared at the small black-and-white photograph. 

It had been a week since Jensen had been discharged, a week in which he hadn’t seen Jared, thanks to Samantha intervening and informing Jared that Jensen needed to rest. 

Samantha. At least she hadn’t killed him when he’d told her the truth, but it was touch and go for a while. 

“You’re having it, definitely?” Chris said. 

Jensen nodded. It had taken him several days to decide, but now that he had, and had shared the news with Chris and Steve, and had looked at the photographs; it seemed more real somehow. 

There was a life growing inside of him.

“When are you going to tell Jared?” Chris asked, as he handed back the photographs, reluctantly. 

“Tonight,” Jensen said, sounding worried. 

“Want me to be there?” Chris asked, the rage back.

Jensen shook his head, he was grateful to have such wonderful friends, but this was something he had to do on his own. 

…

As it turned out Jared was too concerned over Jensen’s accident for Jensen to get a word in about the baby. 

“Are you sure you didn’t see the driver?” Jared asked within minutes of entering Jensen’s apartment. 

Jensen told Jared what he’d told the police, male, blonde hair, wearing dark glasses, which was basically all he knew. As cliché as it sounded, it really did happen too fast. One instant he was checking his phone, and the next the car was mounting the sidewalk, and he was waking up three days later, in the hospital. 

Jared had paced Jensen’s apartment, clearly agitated although Jensen was at a loss as to why. He was fine; the baby was fine; oh god, the baby. He hadn’t told Jared about the baby. “It was probably a dissatisfied customer,” Jensen joked to cover how anxious he suddenly felt. 

“Don’t. You could have been killed,” Jared said. And then he was kissing Jensen. Rough passionate, and Jensen tried to step back, to resist but Jared curled his hand around the back of Jensen’s head, fingers pressing into his scalp as he dragged Jensen back, which became the start of a pattern. Every time Jensen thought to tell Jared, or tried to tell him, Jared would silence Jensen with his mouth, his hands searching out all the spots that made Jensen moan, and lose all ability to think never mind form the words.

If Jensen were honest, not telling Jared made it easier for Jensen to forget. He was only ten weeks, but showing no outward signs of being pregnant, save for being tired to the point of exhaustion. Twice now he’d fallen asleep immediately after sex, and woken up to find Jared hadn’t left, instead he was curled around Jensen, one arm thrown over his hips, palm flat against his stomach. 

Like now.

Jensen stirred in his sleep. He shifted slightly and felt strong arms pull him close, as he sighed, leaned back against the solid weight behind him, and felt Jared’s fingers scrape against his ribs as Jared tightened his hold. He felt the coolness of soft sheets glide across his skin, the warm breath against his shoulder, the heavy weight across his thigh, the possessive grip of long fingers holding him tight and groaned, fought against the vestiges of sleep as Jared slid his hand lower, fingers ghosting across Jensen’s stomach, lower still… 

Shit.

His stomach! He’d fallen asleep again, and although it was impossible to tell that he was pregnant by looking at him, there was a slight, barely noticeable curve to his stomach. Jensen had to stop this, stop it now before he became comfortable, too used to waking up to the feel of strong arms holding him close. 

It had all started when Jared began visiting Jensen’s apartment, staying longer each time. Jensen should have never have let it happen, should have insisted they keep their meetings to a hotel, impersonal, detached, instead he’d allowed Jared into his apartment, let him stay, in Jensen’s bed. Now there wasn’t a single thing in Jensen's apartment that didn’t remind Jensen of Jared. 

Hell, he even had a toothbrush in the bathroom. 

Stupid, it had been stupid, but he hadn’t known about the baby back then, still he never allowed a client into his apartment so why Jared?

“You’re thinking too much,” Jared mumbled, nuzzling in behind Jensen’s ear, shifting closer, and Jensen listened to the sleep-filled groan that accompanied the contact. His skin against Jared’s. His ass in Jared’s lap. Jared’s mouth open, searching sliding along the column of Jensen’s throat as Jensen turned his head, his mouth inches from Jared’s.

“Jared, I…” Jensen began. 

“Hush,” Jared whispered as he slanted his mouth over Jensen’s and silenced whatever he was about to say. 

…

“What do you mean you haven’t told him?” Chris said, this time his anger directed solely at Jensen. 

“I just need a few weeks, if I tell him the checks will stop, and I need the money now more than ever.” Jensen said.

“Then make the bastard pay,” Chris raged. 

“It’s not that simple,” Jensen argued.

“Don’t tell me you have feelings for him?” Chris said. 

“What, no, it’s just… no,” Jensen said. 

“Then tell him,” Chris said. 

“I will,” Jensen said, determined.

… 

Jensen decided to meet Jared at a hotel rather than his apartment as they had been doing of late, but this time Jensen wanted to be able to leave if the need arose. He was early, as usual, and refused the drink Jared offered, settling for bottled water instead. He’d also stopped smoking, something he wished he’d left until after today. 

“You’re what?” Jared asked, hands in his pockets as he paced the room, stopping every few steps to glare at Jensen. “How did this happen?” He continued. 

“Really?” Jensen raised an eyebrow, a wry twist to his mouth. 

“You know what I damn well mean!” Jared all but shouted. 

“The night we had the huge fight. The first night you showed up at my apartment,” Jensen said.

“How could you let this happen,” Jared asked, his voice getting louder by the second. 

“Me? You were there too, you know,” Jensen fumed. “Besides I took precautions, which is more than I can say for you, but I got the stomach flu, remember?” 

“I’ll take care of it,” Jared said, as he looked to Jensen and saw Jensen flinch. 

“You’re not serious?” Jared said, appalled.

“I am,” Jensen said, and held Jared’s gaze. 

“Jesus Christ, this could ruin me,” Jared said, as he sat down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. 

“I’ll keep quiet. As long as you do the right thing,” Jensen said. 

“The right thing?” Jared said, his voice rising, “I’m married for god’s sake.”

“I know that,” Jensen said, his tone matching Jared’s. “But this is your kid, and unless you want me working while I’m pregnant you better damn well take care of it.” 

“You’d do that?” Jared asked, shock evident in his tone.

“If I had to,” Jensen said, “Just like I’d tell your wife.”

“My wife,” Jared said, almost hysterically. 

“Something funny,” Jensen asked, confused. 

Jared shook his head, and resumed pacing. It wasn’t his wife he was concerned about; it was his father. Gerald would throw a fit if he knew about Jensen, let alone that he was pregnant with Jared’s kid. Hell, the only reason Jared had agreed to marry Ava in the first place was because Gerald didn’t want a stranger raising his grandchildren. He’d wanted them raised by a Padalecki, and so he’d married Ava. 

His brother’s widow. 

His father couldn’t have planned it better had he tried. A way to keep his grandchildren close, and tie Jared down to a wife he neither cared for nor wanted. Jared should have known, the instant he’d told his parents the truth about his sexuality, and seen his father’s reaction; he should have known his father would find a way to get what he wanted. He always did, and the thing was; Jared would have taken the boys anyway, without needing to be told and not because he never expected to ever have a family of his own, though he hadn’t, but because he loved them. He just didn’t expect to have to marry their mother. 

Still, Ava had already lost one husband, and while their marriage was for convenience only, he couldn’t do that to her, destroy her publicly. He just couldn’t do it. And his father, well, he’d probably have a heart attack that Jared could besmirch the family name, and then there was his mother to think of. 

His career.

Christ, what a mess. 

“Well?” 

“I’ll cover all medical costs until the baby is born,” Jared said, realising for the first time what he’d said. A baby. There was going to be a baby. His baby. 

“And after?” Jensen said, needing to know his kid was going to be provided for.

“I’ll provide for its needs, but, and I mean it Jensen, if I find out you’re working, anything other than modelling and the deal is off.”

Jensen nodded, grabbed for his jacket, and made for the door. 

“Wait, I’m not done,” Jared said, as he rose to his feet and approached Jensen, causing Jensen to take a step back, and another until his back was flush with the door. 

“Our arrangement still holds,” Jared said, and noted Jensen’s frown. “Two meetings a week, at my convenience, and until I say otherwise.” 

“Why?” Jensen said, genuinely confused. 

"Why not? If I’m paying anyway, then I want my money’s worth,” Jared said, letting his gaze wander to Jensen’s mouth. He leaned in and captured Jensen’s bottom lip between his teeth, worried it until Jensen moaned, and lifted up into the kiss, his tongue pushing past Jared’s lips as Jared opened his mouth and let Jensen in, reached for Jensen. Almost desperate, fingers pulling at the material of Jensen’s shirt, Jared’s mouth ghosting a path downward, touching, kissing, teasing, heat and want and all the things Jared couldn’t, wasn’t in a position to say. 

…

“How could you have missed?” The voice seethed. 

Pellegrino wanted to point out that he hadn’t missed, but the anger that filled the room had him taking a step back. He flinched when a hand came slamming down against the desk. 

“I want him dead.”

Pellegrino nodded, took another step back, recoiled as the feeling of intense hatred radiated out across the room and toward him. He’d been around hatred before, it’s what he traded in, his bread and butter, but this was a whole new level, even for him. 

“Do you understand me?”

Pellegrino nodded. This would take more planning. Seeing as Padalecki was off limits it would mean catching the slut when he was alone, like he’d already tried. Why they just didn’t take out the senator; he wasn’t sure? Perhaps they needed an heir seeing as the older Padalecki was dead, maybe he could use the same method. After all, it had worked before. 

…

If Jensen expected Jared to end their contract once it became noticeable that he was pregnant, he was mistaken. Although, gone where the moments when Jared would follow Jensen down onto the bed, and lick a path up to his chest until their cocks aligned, and he would rub up against Jensen, both panting for breath as Jared held Jensen’s gaze as he came. Nor did he take Jensen the way Jared seemed to like, Jensen on his back, his legs draped over Jared’s shoulders while Jared pushed in, slow and steady. 

Lately, he preferred Jensen as he was now, on all fours, face down against the mattress, but if Jensen expected it to be over quickly, for Jared to take his pleasure, then he was wrong. Instead, Jared took it slow. He circled his hips as he stroked his fingers down between Jensen’s shoulder blades, and lower to feather along the curve of his ass, caressing a path toward his hip, as Jared thrust forward, eased back, and thrust forward again. Rocking his hips back and forth, carefully, almost gentle until he was fully sheathed in Jensen’s ass. 

“Come on,” Jensen urged, bracing his hands against the mattress as he pushed back, forcing Jared deeper, harder, faster; groaning when Jared's breath ghosted across his shoulders, hot against his sweat-soaked skin causing a shiver to run the full length of Jensen’s spine as Jared withdrew, all the way only to thrust back deeper. Lost to the sound of his name as it was breathed out, rasped against his ear, Jared’s voice hoarse as Jensen took him in. 

“Jensen.” 

Jared breathed out, harsh, ragged, as he stroked his hand over the slight curve of Jensen’s stomach, pausing there for a moment to rub in a circle as he leaned in, and mouthed at the tender spot behind Jensen’s ear. Jared’s fingers shaking slightly, as he slid them lower, through the thatch of coarse hair to take a hold of Jensen’s cock, teasing his thumb slowly over the head, before thrusting forward, working Jensen’s cock in time with his hips. 

“Fuck,” Jared hissed, picking up Jensen’s pace, finding his rhythm as he fisted Jensen harder, mouthed his way along Jensen’s back, nipped at his shoulder with his teeth, as Jensen shuddered beneath Jared, almost there, almost. 

Jensen groaned, and turned his head to capture Jared’s mouth as the snap of Jared’s hips became faster, shorter, less controlled. Jensen swallowing Jared’s curse as, he tensed beneath him, warm come coating Jared’s fingers as Jared thrust up, once, twice, his voice almost unrecognisable as he cried out, Jared’s shout of release muffled against Jensen’s shoulder as he pinned Jensen to the mattress beneath him. 

“Stay,” Jared said, grabbing a hold of Jensen’s hand as Jensen eased himself to a sitting position and attempted to climb out of the bed. 

Jensen reached for the sheet, using it to cover his stomach as he shifted back onto the bed beside Jared, his back to Jared’s chest.

Jared edged in closer as Jensen’s breathing evened out, one arm curled around Jensen’s hip as he slept, palm flat and fingers splayed around the slight curve of Jensen’s stomach.

…

Jensen turned over to find the bed empty. He’d fallen asleep, again, but this time it was daylight as he opened his eyes, and loud thanks to the harsh sound of raised voices filtering through from the other room. 

“Don’t!” Jared said, his voice urgent, pleading.

“Get out of my way, boy,” the second voice raged. 

Jensen shoved his feet into his trousers, pulling the material up over the curve of his stomach and reached for his shirt as the door to the bedroom burst open and Gerald Padalecki stormed inside, followed by Jared. 

“You!” Gerald Padalecki pointed a finger at Jensen as Jensen rushed to pull together his shirt, no time to fasten the buttons. 

“Just leave,” Jared urged moving to stand in-between his father and Jensen. 

“Do you have any idea of the worry you’ve caused Ava,” Gerald continued. “Your wife.” 

“I said leave,” Jared repeated, harsher as he stepped closer to Jensen.

“You do remember you have a wife?” Gerald said around a sneer. 

“How could I forget?” Jared said. 

“And you.” Gerald pointed again. “How much is he paying you?”

“That’s enough!” Jared shouted.

“Here, that should cover it.” Gerald reached inside his wallet, pulled out a wad of bills, and threw them at Jensen before turning to Jared. “Get your things, we’re leaving.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jared said. 

“Jared, please, just leave,” Jensen said, feeling dizzy, and queasy all of a sudden. He stumbled back, put his hand out toward the bed for balance as Jared reached out to grab him.

“Jensen,” Jared said, turning his back on his father. “Is it..?”

“What the hell is going on here?” Gerald said. “Oh, my god, is he..?” Gerald stormed over to where Jensen was sitting on the bed.

Jensen looked to Jared, helpless as he tried to gather his shirt around his stomach. This is why he didn’t do baggage, moments like this, he thought seconds before the room began to tilt.

…

When Jensen opened his eyes the second time it was blessedly quiet. He blinked, took a moment to gather himself as Jared stepped into his line of sight carrying a bottle of water. 

“Your father?” Jensen croaked. 

“He’s gone,” Jared said, his voice quiet, too quiet. 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, taking the bottle that Jared held out.

“It’s not your fault,” Jared said, giving Jensen a rueful smile. “I’ll take you home, and then I’ll deal with my father.”

…

“And then I fainted,” Jensen said to Chris.

Jensen had called Chris as soon as he walked through his apartment door, and now they were sitting across from each other, Chris cradling a beer while Jensen settled for bottled water. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just end it,” Chris said. 

“I can’t,” Jensen replied, peeling the label from his bottle as he looked down at his feet. 

“We both know that contract ain’t worth shit. He’s not gonna sue you for breaching it now is he?” 

“What happened to make the bastard pay?” Jensen said. 

“Don’t mean you have to continue to sleep with the guy,” Chris said, ducking his head to look Jensen in the face. “What’s really going on here?” 

Jensen glanced up, dared a look at Chris and shrugged. 

“Jensen?” Chris edged.

“It’s just hormones,” Jensen said, sounding hopeful.

…

“She doesn’t know,” Gerald Padalecki said, his anger barely suppressed. 

Jared watched his father pace the study, arriving before Jared, and no doubt telling Ava whatever story he’d concocted on the way over. Jared had been intent on telling the truth, realising for the first time what the marriage had cost them both, Jared a family of his own, and Ava the chance to grieve and move on. Surely, she must have known. She’d greeted his arrival both with anger and resentment. But then she’d resented him from the moment they’d said their vows. The same words she’d promised to Jeff, and while he’d never promised to love her, he had a responsibility to protect her. 

They’d both been vulnerable, grieving when his father suggested the marriage, security for Ava, respectability for Jared, and the boys the continuation of the Padalecki name. It was all so archaic, but at the time it seemed the right thing to do, Jared only now realising what a terrible mistake they’d made. 

“There’ll be no divorce,” Gerald continued. Talking at Jared, not waiting for any response, simply expecting Jared to go along with whatever plans his father had, the same as he had two years ago. 

“You’ll pay whatever that gold-digger wants and be done with it,” Gerald said, still not looking at Jared. 

“Have you finished?” Jared said.

“Finished, I haven’t even started,” Gerald spat, before glaring at Jared, no doubt about to wade in on one of his diatribes about what a disappointment Jared was, and how he’d never measure up to his brother. And not for the first time Jared felt like hitting his father in the face, hard enough to shut him up, possibly to cause an injury, a black eye maybe. Something his father would have to look at in the mirror, and know it came from Jared. A lingering reminder… 

“Are you even listening?” Gerald shouted.

“I’m leaving before I do something I’ll regret,” Jared said, pushing past his father.

“You mean you haven’t already?” Gerald demanded. 

Jared thought about it as he shoved his way out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Did he regret Jensen? 

No.

He didn’t even need to think about it. Sure, Jensen probably wouldn’t look twice at him if he wasn’t being paid, but the past few weeks Jared had thought there’d been a change in Jensen, a slight shift. It could just be the baby making him appear softer around the edges, but Jared thought maybe there was something there.

The baby. 

Jared still could quite believe it; he was going to be a father. He passed Ava’s room, heard her moving about inside and considered knocking, raised his hand to do so, and then stepped back. What could he say? 

That he was sorry?

Jared thought about it for a second, and realised; he really wasn’t. 

…

If Jensen was shocked to find Gerald Padalecki on his doorstep the next morning he hid it well. 

“How much?” 

There was that question again, but Gerald wasn’t asking how much Jensen was charging Jared. He was asking how much it would cost to buy Jensen’s silence. How much it would cost to sign the documents revoking any and all rights to the Padalecki fortune. To sign away his child’s right to claim even its father’s name. 

“Get out of the way,” Chris said as he shouldered his way past Jensen, and hit Gerald Padalecki square in the face.

Jensen half expected a visit from the police or some heavy goons, but three days passed and nothing, not a word from Gerald Padalecki or Jared. He was driving home from an appointment with the obstetrician, Dr Cortese had recommended when it happened. At first, it was just a smell, burning plastic with a hint of ammonia. He’d read that pregnancy could increase the sense of smell. He was only ten minutes from home, could probably make it, but the smell was making him nauseous. He pulled over onto Hawthorne Avenue, climbed out of the car, and walked over to a hedgerow a few feet away. If he was going to be sick, at least it would offer him a little discretion. Jensen bent forward, hands on his knees and sucked in a deep breath and then suddenly there was a flash of heat, a loud bang, and crackling flames as debris flew out in all directions. 

Jensen fell forward as the force of the blast knocked him off his feet. He wanted to react but had no idea what the hell had just happened. Instead, he curled up in a ball, hands over his head as hot metal shards showered down around him. Something connected with his head, scorching, sharp and Jensen sucked in a breath, scrambled forward several feet as sirens sounded in the distance. He braved a look from behind the cover of his hands and saw what was left of his car, engulfed in flames. 

Jesus Christ, he’d barely made it out. 

Jensen vomited twice on the way to the hospital, both from the smell of ammonia that seemed to be lodged in his nostrils, and the fear that he’d almost died. Another minute, and he’d have been caught in the explosion. His head hurt, would probably need stitches the EMT had warned, and he had several minor burns on his hands, but other than that he was unscathed. 

Unscathed, fuck.

“Is there anyone you’d like us to call?” The nurse asked after he’d been wheeled into the hospital, the EMT refusing to allow him to walk until he’d been fully checked and given the all clear. Jensen shook his head; he should call Chris or Danneel, seeing as how he’d need a ride home. 

Jensen was being wheeled into ultrasound when Jared came rushing down the corridor heading straight for him. 

“What the hell happened?” Jared said, his breathing ragged, “They said there was some kind of explosion.” 

“My car,” Jensen said, glad he was seated when another wave of nausea threatened. 

“Are you okay?” Jared asked, realising it was a stupid question seeing as Jensen was right there in front of him, looking a little frayed around the edges but in one piece. 

“Eight stitches, and these,” Jensen raised his bandaged hands. “They’re just about to perform an ultrasound,” he continued, looking worried despite his easy tone. 

“Can I?” Jared said, looking from Jensen to the porter who had arrived to take him to ultrasound. 

Jensen bit his lip. It felt weird having Jared there. He'd had an ultrasound before, but Danneel had been with him; this just felt too much like a couple thing to do, too, comfortable. 

“Please,” Jared said as the porter released the brake on Jensen’s wheelchair. 

Jensen nodded, still unsure, but Jared was there, and Danneel wasn’t… “How did you know?”

“Danneel called me,” Jared said as Jensen was wheeled into ultrasound and made comfortable on the bed, even if he wasn’t comfortable with the fact that his friends were routinely calling Jared. 

Jensen relaxed as the sonographer squeezed the cold gel onto his stomach and watched as Jared hunched forward a frown on his face, and that’s when Jensen realised, Jared had probably never seen an ultrasound before, especially not of his own kid. Hell, Jensen had only ever seen one, and that was when he’d been twelve weeks after refusing to look at the first scan that was performed. 

“Does it hurt?” Jared asked, as the sonographer pressed down on his stomach. 

Jensen shook his head and turned to look at the screen. It looked different to how it had looked before. More like a baby, rounded with fully formed arms and legs, and fingers, he could see its fingers. He turned when he heard Jared gasp, and saw the look of wonder on Jared’s face. 

It took several tense minutes before the sonographer announced that everything was fine with the baby, and that it was growing in proportion to its gestational age.

“Would you like to know the sex of the baby,” she asked. 

“You can tell?” Jensen asked, unsure whether he wanted to know, he had a wager with Chris, both adamant that they were right as to what sex it was, but Jensen hadn’t expected to be able to know this early. 

Jared took a deep breath, “It’s your call.”

Jensen bit his bottom lip. Finally, he nodded his head, and felt Jared’s fingers curl around his own and squeeze, just for a moment. 

…

“I’m coming in,” Jared said as he dropped Jensen off at his apartment later that afternoon, after having Misha sweep the place for any explosives, rigged or otherwise. 

“You did what?” Jensen demanded. 

“Jensen someone tried to kill you!” Jared exclaimed. 

“We don’t know that for sure?” Jensen said as he let himself into his apartment followed by Jared. 

“Well until we know for sure there’ll be someone parked outside your apartment,” Jared announced. He made his way over to the window and looked out. Sure enough the black SUV that had followed them from the hospital was now parked outside Jensen’s apartment, and as Misha had promised not only did it pack the firepower of an infantry squad with one of his most trusted behind the wheel, but its 400-horse V-8 and high-grade suspension meant it could dance circles around most other vehicles on its way to safety. 

Jared figured Jensen, and his daughter deserved nothing less. 

He’d spoken to Misha while Jensen was being discharged from the hospital and told him what Jensen had said about smelling plastic and ammonia, Misha confirmed both were consistent with an IED of Ammonium nitrate; the same method which was used to kill Jeff. Jared was sure the two were connected. He just didn’t know how, or why. 

“Please, just humour me,” Jared said.

Jared had stayed away the past few days to spare Jensen from his father’s wrath, and he’d almost been killed, by the exact method that killed Jared’s brother. If Jensen hadn’t smelled the ammonia… 

Misha had even suspected a member of Jared’s family, but Jared was certain such a thing was impossible. Everyone had loved Jeff, his father more than anyone. As for Ava, well she could barely look at Jared because he reminded her too much of her loss. Either way, whoever it was, knew their way around an improvised explosive device, so the killer was military or government trained or was hired because they were. If they were hired, then they had to know who was pay rolling the hit.

Jared just had to find them before they tried again.

“You should probably leave,” Jensen said, snapping Jared from his thoughts. 

Jared checked his watch. “Chris will be here soon.”

Jensen simply shook his head at hearing that Jared was also in contact with Chris, who else, his parents? So much for discretion. He opened the door for Jared to leave, and took a step back as Jared approached. But he didn’t leave, not right away. First, he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over Jensen’s, biting down against the fullness of his bottom lip and tasting the groan that escaped Jensen’s mouth, as Jensen took a step closer, then another, clutching at Jared’s shirt with one hand. The other sliding up into Jared’s hair, and curving around the back of his head as he lifted up and slid his tongue into willing, wet heat. 

“Be careful,” Jared said, the words soft, whispered against Jensen’s cheek as Jared held on for one more minute, and then was gone. 

…

Jared debated telling his father about Jeff’s accident, but that would put his father in danger if he began asking questions. No doubt his father would go straight to the police, but without proof… No, Misha was their best option. Not only was he experienced in covert operations, but he had the connections to get the answers they needed. 

Jared just needed to hold it together and trust that Misha would find the bomber, and who they were working for. 

“I want you to carry a gun,” Misha told Jared, prepared to push the issue when he saw Jared was about to argue. 

“Senator, one man is already dead, another almost died today, and the connection between them both, is you,” Misha said, one eyebrow arched. 

Misha handed Jared the Sig P226, and watched as Jared de-cocked the gun, and hit the magazine release button with confidence, born of practice. Jared checked the magazine was full and reloaded the weapon before shoving it into the back of his pants. 

“Now what?” Jared asked.

“Go home senator. Act natural, and wait,” Misha said, sounding almost excited. 

…

Jared debated sending the boys to friends, but figured the safest place for them was at home, with their mother, besides; it was Jensen they seemed to be after this time.

This time, Jared thought.

Who was next, his father, his wife, one of the boys or maybe even Jared himself? 

Misha was positive they would strike within the next few days, angered that they’d been thwarted twice, Jared now sure that Jensen’s previous accident was more a deliberate attempt on his life, or wellbeing. 

The call came in a little after midnight. A car had been sighted circling Maple Avenue, slowing down at regular intervals outside Jensen’s apartment.

Jensen answered his cell phone on the second ring.

“Listen carefully, go outside and get in the black SUV, don’t stop to grab anything, just do as I say,” Misha told Jensen. 

“Let me speak to Jared,” Jensen said, distrustful and a little uneasy. If it were just himself, he’d grab a gun and put up a fight, but there was the kid to think of, his daughter. 

“You can call Jared once you’re safe in the SUV, now move,” Misha said, adamant. 

Jensen shoved his phone into the pocket of his pants, grabbed a jacket, and left the apartment, using the cover of darkness to move between several parked up cars before reaching, and slipping into the SUV. The blonde-haired driver just nodded in Jensen’s direction and cranked the ignition, and pulled out of Maple Avenue. 

Jensen made the call the second he closed the door of the SUV, uncaring that it was so late or who could overhear. 

“Jensen?” Jared said as the call connected. 

“We’re on the move,” Jensen said, finally convinced of the danger, and more than a little scared. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Jared said. “There’s a place just outside of Austin, no one knows about it but a select few, Mark is going to take you there and stay with you until Misha gives the all clear.” 

“What about you?” Jensen asked. 

“I’ll be fine,” Jared promised. “I’m going to call every fifteen minutes, make sure you pick up.”

The drive out of town was quiet, uncomfortably so, the driver not speaking a word, and Jensen too tense to make polite conversation, answering his phone every fifteen minutes to take Jared’s call. Mark answering his cell at regular intervals to give Misha a progress update. If Jensen wondered how Jared knew such people he kept it to himself, simply rested his head against the window and watched as the city slowly give way to the suburbs.

Jensen tensed as they pulled off the road, tarmac giving way to gravel as Mark eased the car through a line of trees toward the house, pulling to a stop a few metres from the front door. Mark was first out of the SUV, stepping around the back and opening the trunk to remove a large bag. He nodded at Jensen and waited as he climbed out of the passenger door, and joined Mark at the rear of the vehicle. 

“I’m going to check the perimeter. You go inside,” Mark said.

Jensen huffed out a breath, and shook his head as he turned away from Mark.

“Something funny?” Mark asked. 

Jensen paused. Four months ago, his biggest concern was paying his credit card bills, or what shirt to wear with a certain suit, now he was running for his life. He took a deep breath, and shook his head. “No, nothing,” he said as his phone rang, Jared’s name lighting up the caller display.

“We’re here,” Jensen said, letting himself in the front door, and reaching to switch on the hallway light. The blow when it came was unexpected. One moment he was hanging up the phone the next the floor was rising up to meet his face, or was it the other way around? 

…

Jensen was getting used to waking up in strange places, an ambulance or the hospital. It seemed to be a side effect of being in close proximity to Jared Padalecki, but this time he realised he was in serious trouble.

“Mark?” 

Mark Pellegrino was standing over Jensen, a gun in one hand and a lighter in the other. “Now do I shoot you first, or do I let the flames do the work for me?” 

“You,” Jensen began. 

“I think you deserve a bullet, all the trouble you’ve caused me, but this is supposed to look like an accident,” Pellegrino said, coldly. 

Jensen debated just rushing Pellegrino, but knew he’d never be able to move fast enough. He tensed as his phone began to ring and watched as Mark pulled it from his pocket, and placed it on the floor a few inches from Jensen’s feet. 

“Go ahead, say your good-byes," Mark said, as he connected the call.

“Jensen, thank God, I thought something had gone wrong,” Jared said and then frowned when he received no response. “Jensen?” 

“Jared!” Jensen shouted as Mark hunkered down onto his haunches and flicked the lighter, dragging the flame back and forward in front of Jensen’s face.

“Jared?” Jensen shouted, louder, more desperate. 

Please don’t, Jensen thought. Please. 

…

Jared could just about make out Jensen’s voice, but it sounded distant, almost like they were shouting at each other from opposite ends of a tunnel. “Jensen, what’s going on?” Jared tried again. 

“Fire!” Jensen shouted, just as Pellegrino blew out the flame, and brought his foot down hard against Jensen’s phone. 

Jared could barely hear a thing, and then the line went dead, there was no way Jensen would just hang up on him, not now with everything going on. He checked his watch it was almost three; it would take him a little over two hours to get to Austin, and Jensen. Shit, what if he was too late? He called Misha from the car, only to learn that Misha had staked out Jensen's apartment and seen no suspicious vehicles, what if they’d followed Mark, and Jensen? 

“Get in,” Jared said as he pulled up outside Jensen’s apartment and opened the passenger door for Misha. 

…

Jared could see the orange glow through the trees as they approached the house, and suddenly he knew what it was Jensen had been trying to say on the phone. 

“Fire!”

He slammed down on the gas, tempted to get out of the car and run, to feel the physical exertion of actually doing something, god, what if they were too late. 

“There,” Misha pointed towards a figure staggering between the trees as Jared slammed on the brakes. As near to the house as they could safely get. 

“It’s not Jensen,” Jared shouted above the roar of the flames, he shielded his eyes from the heat and ran the rest of the way toward Mark Pellegrino, who was now bent over, hands on his knees as he sucked in a breath. 

“Where’s Jensen,” Jared yelled. He grabbed for Mark shaking him as Mark coughed and spluttered, his face streaked black with soot and ash. 

“I tried,” Mark coughed. “But I couldn’t reach him.”

“You mean, he’s in there?” Jared gasped, looking back at the house as the flames shot upward through the roof. 

“Jared, no!” Misha shouted as Jared ran toward the house, hands above his head as a beam of wood splintered and fell just inches from the front door. 

Jared could hardly see a thing for the smoke, black, and so thick he could barely register his hand in front of his face. He called out as he made his way down the hall, coughing as soon as he opened his mouth to shout Jensen’s name. A beam fell to his right, clipping his shoulder as it came down, and Jared stumbled, reaching forward against empty air as he fought to stay upright. 

“Jensen!” Jared shouted; he took off his jacket and rolled it up over his arm as he stretched it out ahead of him, searching, feeling his way toward the back of the house. His nose was burning, from breathing in smoke; he had to open his mouth, had to… “Jensen!” 

Jared stumbled over something, and almost went down. He nudged it with his shoe and thought, please god, don’t be a body, but it was solid, hard, a fallen beam. The smoke was thicker now, the flames licking a path up to the wall, across the ceiling, as Jared edged his way along, room to room, calling out Jensen’s name, but there was no reply. No sound save for the roar of the flames and harsh crackle as wood splintered and gave itself up to the fire. 

“Jensen!” Jared shouted as part of the stairs collapsed behind him. He couldn’t make it much farther. He needed air. He needed to breathe. He stumbled over another beam, softer and heard it moan. “Oh, god, Jensen.” 

Jared knelt down and tried to haul Jensen up, but he was barely conscious, and Jared couldn’t carry Jensen’s weight. It hurt to breathe. Each inhale felt like shards of glass were digging into his chest, he tried to breathe out and bent double as a coughing fit racked his body. “Come on, get up,” Jared urged, and coughed again. 

“Jared,” Jensen croaked, barely audible. 

“Move your feet,” Jared coughed, harsher; he didn’t think he could make it much farther. Another window exploded, and Jared had to drag; half carry Jensen several feet, and then take a breath, another couple of feet, take a breath, short shallow gasps of smoke-filled air that burnt a path down into his lungs.

“Almost there,” Jared said, and then there were hands hoisting Jensen up, sharing the burden. 

“Just a few more feet,” Misha shouted. “Come on, you can do it.”

Jared fought to stay upright, grateful for Misha’s help as he stumbled, almost fell out of the house, handing Jensen over to Misha as he went down into the grass, crawling the rest of the way to safety. “Is he breathing,” Jared gasped, mouth open as he dragged a lungful of fresh air. 

“Barely,” Misha said. Letting go of Jensen and reaching around into the back of his pants, grateful that his gun was still tucked securely into the waistband. He pulled it free, slowly, carefully, turned to where he’d left Mark and racked the slide, before pointing the gun at Mark Pellegrino. 

“Why?” Misha said, as Jared made his way over to Jensen and knelt by Jensen’s side. 

“You’re not serious,” Pellegrino said. 

“No one knew about this place. There’s no other vehicle here, just you, so I’ll ask again, why?” Misha demanded.

“Why not,” Pellegrino said as he pulled a gun from beneath his jacket and aimed it at Misha. 

“Who hired you?” Jared said, once he was able to breath without choking. 

Pellegrino smiled, lopsided, and sinister. “Oh, I never kiss and tell.” 

Misha curled his finger around the trigger, ready to squeeze as Pellegrino shook his head and shifted his aim to encompass Jared, and Jensen. 

“I wouldn’t,” Pellegrino warned. “Now toss the gun over here.”

Misha hesitated.

Pellegrino cocked back the hammer on his gun, as Misha took a deep breath and threw his gun at Pellegrino’s feet.

“And the one in your boot,” Pellegrino added, as Misha reached into his boot and pulled out the Taurus .22 and threw it toward Pellegrino. 

“Now move.” Pellegrino pointed the gun at Misha, and used it to direct him over to where Jared was still crouched over Jensen. 

“You can’t shoot all three of us,” Misha said, confident. 

“I don’t have to, because you’re both going to die in the fire,” Pellegrino walked over and kicked at Jensen. “This one’s as good as dead.” 

“You’re crazy,” Jared said, as he got to his feet and made to stand beside Misha. 

“Move!” Pellegrino said, aiming his gun first at Jared then Misha, as both took a step back, closer to the fire. 

“Turn around and walk or I put a bullet in your head.” Pellegrino added. 

Misha was the first to turn around, Jared taking a last look at Jensen as he lay on his side, eyes closed and face black with soot and grime, his chest rising and falling with each, laboured breath. 

“I could put him out of his misery,” Pellegrino said, as Jared put his hands up in submission, turned around and took a step closer to the fire. The heat intensified now as the entire house caught ablaze. It wouldn’t be long before someone saw the flames, the nearest neighbours over a mile away, but the flames were high, bright, lighting up the sky around them. 

“Give me your gun,” Misha whispered as he and Jared both edged closer to the flames, sparks flying outward, burying themselves in Misha clothes, his hair, both stopped, afraid to go any further. 

“I don’t have it,” Jared said, quiet as Pellegrino stepped up close behind them.

“Where is it?” Misha whispered. 

The slide back was audible, a loud click as the bullet was chambered and then a loud bang. 

Misha was the first to react, spinning around and dropping to one knee as Jared followed suit, ducking down beside Misha as both watched the bright crimson spread outward from Pellegrino’s chest. Another shot, louder this time as Pellegrino stumbled, the bullet entering the back of his head and exiting his forehead leaving a perfectly rounded, red hole between Pellegrino’s eyebrows. He went down, left leg giving way first as it buckled beneath him. 

“It’s true what they say, if you want a job done properly,” Ava said, as she stepped out from the cover of the trees. She walked over to Jensen kicked him, hard, smiling when her efforts produced no movement. 

“Keep walking,” Ava warned. 

“You killed Jeff?” Jared said, shocked at her duplicity, and her ability to look not only him, but her children in the face every day knowing she’d murdered their father. 

“The damn fool was going to divorce me. Me!” She raged. “He was going to take away my money, my status, and my children.” 

“So you had him killed?” Jared spat, seeing her hatred for the first time. It wasn’t resentment, nor grief, but pure unadulterated hate. 

Ava shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned with Jared’s anger or his grief, or the fact that she had ripped away a part of her children’s identity and replaced it with grief. “I said keep walking.”

“You’re going to have to put a bullet in me,” Jared said, resolute, as Misha pulled himself upright and made to stand beside Jared, both flinching as part of the house collapsed behind them covering them both in a shower of sparks. 

“Don’t think I won’t” Ava said, pulling the trigger, a bullet landing several inches in front of Jared and Misha. 

“Go ahead,” Jared said, unafraid. If he could just keep her talking, keep her distracted long enough. 

The next bullet hit Jared square in the shoulder, a clean through and through. He stepped back a few inches with the force of the impact, glanced over his shoulder at the fire, close; he was so close. He could feel the heat of it licking a path directly toward him. An angry wash of red, and orange as it leapt and writhed and reached ever outward, thick black plumes of smoke choking the very air itself. It was more than fire. It was death, and it was edging ever closer, but he had to stand his ground, despite the pain in his shoulder, despite the gun pointed at his chest. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Ava said as she chambered another round, aware that Jared was stalling for time. 

She fired another round this time the bullet zinged, past his ear, taking a slice of skin with it and Jared stumbled, almost went down. Misha reached a hand to help him, then screamed in pain, dragged it back as the fourth bullet sank into his arm, tearing through muscle, blood red and oozing from the wound. 

“You’re hoping the cavalry will arrive,” Ava said, as she racked the slide once more, but she never had the chance to fire it. 

Jared watched as her face contorted with pain, the angry set of her mouth sliding away as her lips parted on a scream of agony. She twisted, reached over her shoulder a look of horror, disbelief as she twisted back around, stumbling forward. 

“Cavalry’s already here, bitch,” Jensen said as he drove the glass shard deeper between her shoulder blades, watched as her fingers uncurled from the gun, and it slid onto the grass at her feet, her legs buckling as she scrabbled at her back trying in vain to reach the glass shard. 

It took every ounce of strength he had to crawl his way over, to drag himself to his feet…and now… the floor tilted, came upwards; he staggered back, falling over his own feet, once, twice… 

“I got you,” Jared said as he rushed forward, catching Jensen as he stumbled, and collapsed. “I got you.”

“Misha reached for the gun with his good hand and kept it aimed at Ava, who looked up at Misha, almost daring him to shoot, but he just smiled and shook his head. “No you don’t. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.” He grabbed Ava by the arm, and dragged her along the grass away from the flames. People did desperate things when faced with prison, the loss of power and wealth, Misha was taking no chances. 

“Are you okay?” Jared said, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, the blood that ran down his arm and painted his hand a crimson red. 

“I don’t think I’ll be making the cover of any magazines any time soon,” Jensen wheezed, then bent double from the exertion, hands gripping his stomach. 

“Is it the baby?” Jared said, worried now that he knew Jensen was alive, and in one piece. 

“Just hurts to breathe,” Jensen said, coughing again, taking quick, shallow breaths, which seemed easier, less painful. 

The sound of sirens echoed in the distance as the house collapsed in on itself, large embers flying outward and setting fire to several trees, “Finally,” Misha said, gripping Ava’s arm even tighter. 

…

Jensen was started on oxygen therapy as soon as he was admitted to the hospital and Jared winced at seeing him once again hospitalised. His head wound needed re-stitching, which was sure to leave a nice scar, but that was the least of their concerns. It took several nurses and a doctor to convince Jared that Jensen was fine, the baby was fine, if a little distressed, and that he needed his shoulder wound tended to. Jared was more concerned with having Jensen moved to Dallas when he learned he was expected to stay in the hospital for several days. He didn’t want to have to trade favours on his wealth and reputation, but he would if necessary. 

As it was the medevac was arranged for later that same day, Jared travelling down by car after an irate phone call from his father. It was time to come clean, and there was no time like the present.

…

“Don’t you dare drag my son into this sordid mess of yours,” Gerald Padalecki warned. 

Jared wanted to remind his father that he was his son too, but one look at his father’s face was enough to convince him otherwise. 

Gerald was adamant this was all Jensen’s doing or related back to Jensen somehow. “After all what do you expect from a whore?” Gerald sneered. 

“Would it matter if I told you I had a suspicion Jeff’s death was no accident before any of this happened?” Jared asked

“Where’s your proof?” Gerald demanded. 

“Christ, I’ve just told you your son was in all likelihood murdered and you’re not even shocked, or concerned.” Jared said, aghast at his father’s matter of fact attitude. 

“You’re lying. I don’t know who this Pellegrino is, but I won’t accept Ava had any part of this,” Gerald said. “I won’t.”

“That’s for a jury to decide,” Jared said, coldly. 

“You’d do that to her?” Gerald said. 

“She tried to kill me!” Jared said, incredulous. 

“This is about him isn’t it? The whore,” Gerald demanded. “A convenient way to rid yourself of your responsibilities.”

Jared shook his head, disbelieving. Even after everything. His statement, corroborated by Misha, his father still refused to believe Ava guilty. “I’ll continue to care for the boys,” Jared said. 

“I won’t have that whore near my grandsons,” Gerald warned. 

“And that’s for me to decide,” Jared said. 

“I’ll have you expelled for this,” Gerald shouted, slamming his fist down against his desk. 

Jared had heard enough. He was wasting his time and his energy, there was no proof Ava had killed Jeff, and with Pellegrino dead… but with Jared, Misha, and Jensen’s testimony, she’d go to prison for sure, but getting his father to believe it to be anything more than her discovery of Jared’s infidelity… 

He wanted nothing more than to go to the hospital, but Jensen had his friends and family, and his boys needed him, now more than ever. He’d call Chris and get an update, hoped Chris would take his call, although he wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. He’d almost gotten Jensen killed, more than once. 

…

It didn’t take long for the news stations to pick up the story and every channel, and newspaper was headlining the attempted murder of Senator Padalecki. Though some were calling it a love triangle gone wrong, which would no doubt please Jared’s father. 

The only good thing to come of it was that the police were reopening Jeff’s accident due to the incriminating similarities to Jensen’s recent car explosion. That and the involvement of Mark Pellegrino, hired gun. 

Jensen had managed to dodge the reporters as he left the hospital, mostly thanks to Chris and Danneel running interference while Steve kept the motor on the car running. He hadn’t seen Jared since the fire, and wasn’t even sure if he wanted to, although he’d noticed Misha following at a discreet distance on the rare occasions, he’d ventured outside. So far, his contract with Senator Padalecki involved an unplanned pregnancy, a car accident, an explosion, and almost been burned alive, not to mention an unwanted bodyguard. He was curled up on his sofa eating ice cream from the tub when it happened. 

A faint fluttering, like gas bubbles popping in his stomach. He wasn’t hungry, nor did he need to piss. He waited, and then it happened again, stronger. 

“Hey there baby girl,” Jensen whispered, and fought the urge to call Jared. 

Samantha called a week later, excited and mouth running a mile a minute.

“Whoa, slow down,” Jensen said, thinking the call had something to do with Jared. 

“How do you feel about a photo-shoot?” Samantha asked. 

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pregnant,” Jensen said, despite thinking he’d love to, just to have something to do.

“Exactly, stop hiding, Jensen, you’re hot property at the moment, everyone is clamouring for exclusives let’s give them something to look at,” Samantha said, her excitement back. “The sooner you talk, the sooner they’ll move on.”

“I don’t know, what about Jared?” Jensen edged. 

“Jensen the cat is well and truly out of the bag, let’s use it,” Samantha urged.

Samantha was right about one thing. The sooner Jensen stopped hiding the sooner he’d be able to get on with his life, and if modelling was still an option, then why not? It’s not like he’d heard from Jared since the fire. Two weeks, and not a word, even though the checks kept arriving, every Friday like clockwork. 

“Okay, set it up, but just a photo-shoot, no interviews,” Jensen agreed. 

So far the press had described Jensen as belonging to the Ferris Modelling Agency, there wasn’t even a hint of anything untoward or improper, no mention of Jensen being a high-class hooker and he wanted to keep it that way. For Jared’s sake, and if he were honest, his own. 

The modelling shoot was arranged for the following week, and Jensen had fully expected that they’d want to highlight the pregnancy rather than play it down. Every outfit was tailored to show off his rounded stomach, and at twenty weeks, it was definitely noticeable. He was standing against a white backdrop, hands cradling his stomach, looking past the camera when he saw him, standing in almost the same position as before, off to the side, just watching. 

Jared. 

“Look at the camera,” the photographer called out. 

Jensen sucked in a breath and turned towards the camera, but all he could see was Jared. He watched the way Jared watched him, tracking Jensen’s every move, a slight, almost sad look about his face. He was not going to feel sorry for Jared Padalecki; the man hadn’t even called Jensen in close to three weeks. Nothing, not a word, and there was no way he was going to show up at every photo-shoot Jensen had and throw his weight around. Not that he had, but there was still time. 

Jensen was on his last outfit change when Jared left, not a word or even a nod in Jensen’s direction, Jared just simply turned and walked out. Which was fine by Jensen. He was hot, tired, and in no mood for a scene. He didn’t even change out of the clothes for the shoot, just grabbed his jacket and car keys, kissed Samantha on the cheek and walked out of the building. 

This time there were no reporters outside his apartment, and no Misha. Jensen took the elevator up to the third floor, head down, as he found his apartment key, and almost walked straight into Jared. 

Jared straightened away from the wall beside Jensen’s door, and pulled his hands from his pockets, as Jensen unlocked his door and walked inside, leaving the door open behind him. He tossed his keys into the dish on the coffee table and went to stand at the window, looking out onto Maple Avenue. 

“Hey,” Jared said, breaking the silence as he moved to stand behind Jensen, and wrapped his arms around Jensen’s waist, hands curled around his stomach. 

“Hey,” Jensen sighed, and leaned back against Jared’s weight, eyes closed.

“I missed you,” Jared said, the words breathed into Jensen’s hair, his lips skirting down Jensen’s cheek. 

“What about the press, your father?” Jensen said, turning his head as Jared nipped at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. 

“I can’t promise you happy ever after,” Jared warned as Jensen turned, slow, unhurried, his hands sliding up Jared’s chest, his shoulders, winding their way into Jared’s hair, fingers teasing between the strands, as he lifted up against Jared’s mouth. 

“Just this,” Jared said, and took back the final inch that separated him from Jensen.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t get to finish this in time to post it to spn_masquerade, [But this was written for this prompt with some variations](http://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/2393.html?thread=36697#t36697) if this was your prompt, then thank you.


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